Riding Into Littleton

Image source: PxHere

The morning sun snailed across the clouds, rising like an overburdened train moving up a sloppy mountain. Something had happened in Littleton; some diabolic act the sun had not seen in centuries.

It was the morning after Halloween. There was a stillness in the air. A stillness punctuated by the patrolling wind that rearranged the streets debris as glowing eyes watched its activity in silence.

Across the stretch of road separating the town from the nearest city, an apology for a Cadillac announced it's approach. Gary alternated his right hand between the steering wheel and bottle enveloped in a paper bag. His eyes was fiery red, a vestige of the red glows his forehead and middle finger had cradled all night.

He switched gears as he passed a 'Welcome To Littleton' sign. He chuckled to himself. He was sure that sign was not for him. He watched out for the early risers, hoping to recognize a few. It has been so long he was home.

He must have passed by the Post Office when he heard a cry that tore through his hardened skull. He looked into his side mirror but saw nothing. Nothing but the orangy remains of a Jack O Lantern. He turned to to face the road and swerved off the road.

By this time the sun had made it to the sky, albeit a comfortable distance from the sight before him. He watched the car ram into a tree and waited. Hoping this was not going to be a new addition to the flock.

Gary lifted his head off the steering wheel, eager for the comfort only Molly could give. Something was not right. Perhaps he had drunk too much. He opened the door and stepped outside. His eyes was unprepared for the spectacule before them.

There were a thousand Jack O Lanterns, maybe more. Each one the same identical shape and colour. The glow in their eyes were still there. The patrolling wind stirred and blew some of them to his direction.

The wind must have continued blowing as the pumpkins seemed to be coming towards him. His eyes his hands over eyes with smudge of blood on them. He steadied himself as the flock approached him.

For the first time in a long time, Gary felt his heart pump blood. The pumpkins approached, moving on legs he could not see. He opened the car and dived in, stretching his hand to the underside of the passenger seat.

Frightened hands felt for the assuring feel of steel. His ears began to play some strange melody. A melody akin to a a wind's whistling between tree trunks. His right shoulder recalled his hand and pointed it blindly at the road.

There she was, between the horde of glowly pumpkins that matched know his direction. It was El Salma, his accomplice in mischief and partner in wild romps. Sands were the skin on her face. Her body shrouded in the last clothes he had seen her in.

Gary lifted the gun, trying to align it's business end to her face. His mind told him to pull the trigger. Instead, his mouth begged for n explanation.

"why?"

There was that mischievous smile on her face. The smile that only came when she had people within her grasps. He never should have allowed her read that book.

"You know why. They buried me alive."

"But... My mum.... " Gary could not believe how much concern his heart felt for his mother.

"You killed her" Came the reply with an amused glint in her eyes

"H... H... How" He stammered.

"The Jack O Lantern you drove over. Or should I say Mary O Lantern? "

Gary pulled the trigger as the form of El Salma walked calmly towards him. His finger pulled and pulled and pulled, first in anger and then in grief and lastly in fear. He stopped when he realized he could not kill the dead. He did not want to experience her anger. He pressed the barrel against his head and pulled.

He heard an empty click.

Entry for Oct 16 Twenty-four Hour Short Story Contest