Where strange fact and stranger fiction collide
I got 15 days left to submit my entries for the H.P. Lovecraft micro fiction contest. So I have been going through my short, short fiction. I picked the five I wanted to submit. I thought I would share two stories that I am not submitting. They both share a classic car as a plot point, I actually didn’t put that together until I decided that I would post them together.
The first one In 3D was greatly influenced by trip to see the ’53 classic War of the Worlds at OMSI last week. I am sharing it here but since I am not submitting it to the HPL micro-fiction con test, I will not be limited to the 500 word count limit. So I might write a longer version in an attempt to capture the spirit of going to a drive in movie as a child. With giant radioactive monsters of course.
The second one Road to Hell, is not a Lovecraft story but a more traditional horror story. Since I never planned on entering it to the HPL micro fiction contest it is over a 1,000 words. It is my twist on the phantom hitchhiker urban legend. Hope you enjoy these litte scary automobile stories..
By David Heath
Word count: 495.
As the sun sank below the horizon Bruce hooked the drive in’s speaker to the window of his new ’55 Chevy. He looked back at Sissy, her pony tail tied back with a scarf, and wearing an untucked oversized white shirt, even the goofy red and blue lens 3D glassed didn’t diminish her cuteness. The movie was some sci-fi 3D horror show called, The Attack of the Radioactive Behemoth. Bruce was hoping the movie would be really scary, so scary that his date would become frightened and jump into his arms.
Not only was the movie not scary it was boring. The villain was some mad scientist who kept droning on about how week mankind was and how it needed to be whipped of the face of the Earth. And the Behemoths were a joke, a papier-mâché mess with a cord connected to a ping-pong ball with an eye drawn on it. Bruce was going to suggest they leave and go get a malt when Sissy snuggled up to him and began kissing him. After making out for about fifteen minutes, Sissy pushed him off of her, jumped up and asked “What’s that?”
“What?” Bruce asked.
“That crazy mad scientist-guy, why is he speaking Ruskie-talk?”
A long time before he discovered cars and girls Bruce was an altar boy. “That ain’t Russian, it’s Latin.”
“What’s he saying?” Sissy asked.
Before Bruce could say he didn’t know, he looked up on the screen, the Behemoth was no longer the joke effect it was at the beginning of the movie. This time the 3D effects gave it a true sense of proportion and depth. Its body looked like an amoeba pulsating full of acid, and a tri-lobe eye topped off a tumorous tactical. A crimson death ray shot out of the alien eye, hitting and exploding the Oldsmobile in front of them. Sissy began to scream as a dozen Behemoths floated of the screen and into the drive in. Disintegrating cars that were trapped in the drive in.
Bruce started the car and began barreling towards the exit. Only to find one of the gelatinous monsters was blocking the way out. A bright red beam shot out from its extended eye melting the Chevy’s window and hitting Sissy. She barely got a shriek out as when her body began to glow red and dissolve. Bruce screamed as he first saw her irritated glowing bones that soon dissolved into glowing ashes.
We leaned over to his glove box to pull out his only weapon a switchblade. But when he looked out the vaporized windshield he saw the Behemoth began to float towards him. In his haste to escape he had left the grey boxy speaker in his driver side window. Though the cord connecting it snapped when he raced off, he could still hear the mad scantiest chanting in Latin. A crimson death ray burst from the monster’s eye and the Chevy exploded in a shower of sparks.
Road to Hell
By David heath
Word Count: 1062.
There is an urban legend told along State Route Twenty-Six that says if you are a lone man driving down that path at night, if you see an unearthly beautiful woman hitchhiking, whatever you do don’t stop and pick her up. If you do the authorities will find you abandoned vehicle but not your body. This cautionary tale didn’t stop Natalia Grey from thumbing a ride at night on old Twenty-Six, and it didn’t stop men from picking her up. Nor did it stop her from killing them.
For her part Natalia didn’t see herself as a murder. The men had something that she needed to live, blood. Ever since she died as a human and was resurrected as a vampire picking up lone male drivers, and getting them to take her to a secluded area, where she would drain him of all his precious life-blood had, become her modus operandi. It had been that way for over six decades, ever since the redheaded master vampire that created her then deserted leaving Natalia with only her good looks and desire to live forever to allow her to survive her life of undeath.
She struck the pose, her back to the flow of traffic, her thumb out. Natalia had a gorgeous face, but she knew from experience that if she wanted to attract a man driving by at fifty-five miles an hour, it was better to show him her tight buttocks barely covered in a denim mini-skirt.
She’d been on the road less than ten minutes when a car pulled up in front of her. Natalia recognized the car as a fifty-six Chevy Bel Air. She was familiar with the make and type of the car because that was the same year she had become a vampire. The door of the car opened and the driver got out and walked to the passenger door. Natalia gave the man a look over, he was older, white hair and goatee, but with a fit physique. He wore horn rimmed glasses and a string tie, with a black suit with way too large lapels. His black dress shoes actually had spats. She thought he was a strange amalgam of Buddy Holly and that Kentucky Colonel on those fast food chicken commercials. Not completely unattractive but out of place for this day and age. He opened the passenger door for her to enter bowing and in a southern draw said. “Little Lady.”
She figured he was either one of two types. He was either an innocent grandfather kind of guy, who would try to regale her tales of a long gone time, of corded phones and cheep gasoline, or he would be a lothario who couldn’t keep his hands off her. It didn’t matter to Natalia, his blood would taste the same to her. She sled in to the passenger side of bench seat “Merci.” She told the gentleman in a flirty voice.
The man went back around the car, entering and taking his place in the driver seat. “Where you heading to darling?”
“Oleander.” Natalia lied naming a town about ten miles down Twenty-six.
“I am going farther than that, but I can drop you off.”
“Perfect.” Natalia said grasping the old man’s shoulder. He seemed oblivious of the vampire’s cold touch.
“What’s your name, little one?” The man asked.
“Natalia.” She purred. “What is yours?”
“Well my friends call me Morty.” He said taking her small undead frigid hand.
“Is that short for Morton or Mordechai?” She asked shaking his hand.
“No.” He said then added “oh sweetheart you are practically freezing, let me turn on the heat.” He fingered the nobs then he pulled out the choke and turned the key. “I am afraid I must insist that you buckle up.”
“But I like to live dangerously.” Natalia counter in a flirty voice.
The driver had already buckled his belt. “I am afraid this car doesn’t move unless everyone is safely buckled in.”
Natalia pouted “whatever grandpa.” She buckled her seatbelt. It was a modern lap belt that had to be added years after the car was manufactured. “Happy?”
“Imminently so darling.’ The old man said with a smile. He then pulled out on to the two lane road. He fumbled with the radio’s nob, it ended on a classical musical station that was playing a dirge. As they drove for the next couple miles Morty seemed to ignore his passenger as they continued down the road. One of the things that Natalia detested the most was being ignored. She began to rub Morty’s shoulders again. “So, cutie.” She said in a flirty voice. “What you say we pull over and have some fun?”
“No.” said the driver flatly.
If there was anything that Natalia hated more than being ignored it was being rejected. “You will pull over.” She commanded.
“No.” Morty replied flatly.
“What?” Natalia gasped no mortal should be able to deny her vampiric commands. Panic rushed through her body. Morty turned towards her and winked. She could hear the doors lock themselves and the restraint belt began to pull her tightly against the bench seat.
“See the thing about you vampires, is that you go against the order of nature. Everything is supposed to die eventually. But you hang on to a mockery of life by draining the life blood and essence of the living. I tell you it ain’t right. It’s not the way the Creator meant it to be. I should I know I was with him from the beginning.” The old man said.
Pinned against the seat Natalia blurted out. “Who are you?”
“You should have pressed me on my name.” Morty continued. “I am oathbound to tell you if you guessed it right.” He took his eyes of the road for a moment and looked at the trapped vampire. “My name is Mortis, I am Death.” He looked back at the road, and Natalia watched the flesh on his fingers dissolved to bones. He turned to look at her again but his hair, beard, and flesh were gone, only a skull with two bright red hellfire flames for eyes. His voice was deep now. “I hunt you undead and take you to the place you should have gone to when you first died. Don’t worry about being cold it is plenty warm where we are going.”
Natalia began to scream as a fiery hellmouth opened up on the road and the car drew through the portal to the afterlife.