For years now I’ve posted a comic of some kind on Halloween, usually featuring Blakbone (the 1134 Comix Rock n’ Roll demon!). I’m doing something a little different this time, and instead of dropping a new Blakbone comic, I’m posting a short story!

I think this one is fitting for Halloween – I hope you enjoy!

My Long Shadow

By G.J. Sieck

It was cold out on that dark desert road. I walked it, straight on down into an endless midnight. I abandoned my cherry red ‘65 Mustang I don’t how many miles back. She broke down on me and had me fixin’ to leave her to rust. I had that car for ten years; got her right off the assembly line. She was my baby. I loved her. But love never got me nothin’ but broken. It was my turn to start doin’ the breakin’. Wife, job, house, now the car; there was nothin’ I wouldn’t leave. There was nothin’ left I wouldn’t break. I marched down that mean old bitch of a road what felt like days. And I swear, I don’t think the sun came up once.

Every step forward was a step into the unknown, but a step away from Elizabeth. She was the biggest mistake of my life. She trapped me fifteen years earlier with the first baby. I married her; that’s what you did back then. I punched the clock, drillin’ rivets ever since. I put the food on the table; put a roof over her and two kids’ heads. All I ever got in return was nothin’ and nothin’ was ever good enough for that woman. I was done.

I walked and I walked until I came to the crossroad. There was no sign; just another road that looked to go on forever in either direction. I stood there. I could’ve kept headin’ straight on or turned left or right. Either way I was goin’ nowhere. Those roads went on and on with no end. As I stood there I heard it comin’ up fast from behind—another ’65; this one was black as night and stopped on a dime right next to me.

I always called them licorice hats—those black, leather cowboy hats. His had a silver emblem of an eagle with eyes of turquoise. Everything he wore was black: sunglasses at night, leather coat, drivin’ gloves—all of it. I only noticed the Smith & Wesson shine from his waistband after he punched the accelerator. I don’t even remember gettin’ into the car. Love Will Keep Us Together by Captain & Tennille, was playin’ on the radio—I hated that song. He turned the volume knob to the left as he faced me. “Where’re we headed?” he said. He had a throat made of gravel and the look of a man who didn’t carry a gun he didn’t plan to use.

“I don’t rightly know, tell you the truth,” I said. “Just take me as far as you’re goin’.” I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I put them in the side pockets of my work jacket. I looked straight ahead at the road, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. Straight between the lines we rocketed down that dark road. Faster—the stranger drove with a vengeance. We were two blazin’ headlights tearin’ through the dark. “So, how far were you goin’?”

“All the way,” he said.

He had turned his attention back to the desert road. “My name’s Sam,” I said. I held out my hand for a shake, but he left me hangin’.

“Good to know.”

I sat back in my cool leather seat. It still smelled fresh, just like mine. I kept my leather clean. I caught my own reflection in the passenger-side mirror. Cast in the cool blue light of the radio, my dark-ringed eyes almost shined. The five o’clock shadow was becomin’ a beard. My hair was slicked with sweat and the grease from not havin’ showered in days. Every so often a cactus would flash through the night past my window. “What’s your name?” I asked. He responded with silence. After a second he turned the volume knob to the right. Linda Ronstadt was singin’, You’re No Good. I liked that song, but I liked the Dee Dee Warwick version better. 

“So, what’s your story, hoss?” the stranger asked. I never liked one-sided conversations. I liked intimidation tactics even less. But he had the power. He had the gun. I could tell that stranger was from the wrong side of the law. I had to let him know that I wasn’t some milquetoast pussy afraid of a cowboy with a six-shooter.

“I’m startin’ over. That’s my story.”

“Short story. I like it.”

The stranger adjusted his hat. He took a cigar from his inside coat pocket. With a flick of his wrist he produced a flamin’ Zippo. A cloud of cherry-scented smoke began to fill the car as he puffed. He only cracked the driver-side window. The electric blue light danced in the rollin’ smoke as it filled the dark cab.

“I’m tired; tired of gettin’ beat down. And I decided I’m not takin’ it anymore. I’m not takin’ shit from nobody anymore.”

“Sounds like your story might not be as short as you wanted me to believe.” 

“You ever been married?”

The stranger, again, replied in silence. He pressed on the gas and the engine growled in return. Like a bullet, we shot through that black desert. That V8 must’ve been runnin’ all 200 horses—it felt like more. Movin’ so fast, the only thing fixed in place were the stars in the sky.

“Well, if you haven’t, don’t,” I said. “It’s the easiest way to piss your life away. I knocked Elizabeth up fifteen years ago and have been payin’ for it ever since. Been doin’ factory work all this time, but with two kids and a mortgage the money doesn’t go far.” 

“So, you walked away?” 

“Hell, I ran away.”

The stranger looked back at me. “You have to grab life by the balls,” he said. He took his far hand off the wheel, reached over, and grabbed my manhood. He grabbed it hard, almost violently. “Be a man.” Before I could react, he had already let go. He was lettin’ me know who was in charge—and it wasn’t me. “Go ahead, tell me the rest of it. So far I got that you let some woman chase you out of your own life.” He grinned and let out what was almost a laugh. “What else has you out here runnin’ like a desert hare?”

I didn’t like the comparison. “I was a riveter damn near half my life now. They canned my ass two weeks ago. I never did tell Elizabeth.” My voice shook as I said her name. I wasn’t doin’ so well showin’ that stranger how tough I was.

He laughed. “Afraid to tell her the truth. But you told me.” 

“I don’t know you.”

“Don’t you?” the stranger asked. With a tilt of his head he leered at me from behind that black, leather hat. I didn’t catch his meanin’. I was startin’ to think that I’d been ridin’ with this character long enough. “You got more story to tell,” he said. He puffed on his cigar. “Let’s hear it, hoss.”

Two cacti blew past my window in the night before I said anything. “I’m just a fed-up son-of-a-bitch and full of hate. You know what it’s like to wake up one day, realizin’ that everything you worked for hadn’t added up to nothin’ but shit?” The discomfort I felt began to dissolve, anger began replacin’ it. “I wake up every day and punch that clock. Every day I give my life away. Then to be given the shaft, shown the door, out on your ass and broke with two kids and a woman always with their hands out—it’s too much for a man to handle.” He looked at me sideways. It felt like judgment, but I can’t rightly say what that cowboy was thinkin’. “You know, I would come home every evenin’ to find nothin’ but a mess in the house, dinner already eaten and just a cold plate waitin’ for me in the fridge. And she would have the nerve to bitch at me about not spendin’ enough time with her and the kids. Worse, she told me if I couldn’t do better, I should just leave.” That was what really pissed me off. She was the reason I was out on that road. She was the reason I was ridin’ with that stranger. “Well, ‘better’ I couldn’t do. I couldn’t even do the same now that I was out of work. So, she got exactly what she wanted. I left.” I started to roll down my window to let some of the smoke out.

The stranger puffed on his cherry scented cigar. “Keep it up,” he said. I stopped rolling the window and closed it back up.

“So, I cashed out whatever I had, left the house like I was headin’ to work, and never came back. I’m not goin’ back. I’m gonna find a place to be, find another job, and keep what I make. Without all those mouths to feed maybe I’ll finally be able to save somethin’. Maybe I’ll be able to hold onto what I work for and make somethin’ out of my life. Maybe, just maybe I can be free.”

“You had a dream didn’t you—one you never had the chance to chase?”

“Yeah, endless cash and endless tail.” I chuckled. I felt a drop in the pit of my gut. “I guess that’s more of a fantasy than a dream …” My head started to hang.

“Anything’s possible,” the stranger said with a sneer.

“I guess that depends on the choices you make,” I said. I shook my head in regret.

“I want you to take a look in the backseat.” I was hesitant. “Nothin’ back there gonna bite you, boy. Take a look.” I didn’t like bein’ called boy. That cowboy couldn’t have been much older than me. I partly wanted to keep lookin’ forward in defiance, but I was compelled to prove that I wasn’t afraid. I turned in my seat, looked over my shoulder and saw nothin’ but a black suitcase in the middle of the backseat. Its handle and clasps were facin’ me.

His eyes fixed to the road, the stranger asked, “Know what’s in that case?” I couldn’t know for sure, but I had the inclination that it wasn’t a change of clothes.

“Money?” A good enough guess, I thought. His stone face cracked as the corner of his mouth rose so slightly.

“Freedom, all of it you’d ever want.” I turned back to face the road. “You seem like a man with nothin’ left to lose,” the stranger said. “So, this is your lucky day.”

I was startin’ to feel uneasy. But was he right? Was I a man with nothin’ left to lose? I felt like I was. “Yeah, what’s the catch?” 

“You just have to do me a favor. That’s all. Just one quick favor.”

I couldn’t hide my skepticism when I asked, “What kinda quick favor is worth all the freedom I could ever want?” 

The stranger took the revolver out from his waistband. He held it up; barrel pointed at the roof. “I want you to take this gun and I want you to use it.” I sat back in my seat. My eyes were fixed to that silver hand-cannon. “You kill just one person for me and everything you ever wanted can be yours.

 I sat in silence, maybe for too long. I didn’t know what to say. 

“You got that instinct, hoss. I see it in you.” He’d noticed the cold sweat on my brow. He’d noticed the nervous shake of my knee. My head swam. It seemed to get darker. Not even the stars fixed in the sky remained. Somehow it felt like we were movin’ even faster. That rumblin’ V8 shook through my whole body—it felt good. I sat there quiet for another minute that felt like a year. “So, what’s the verdict?” He put the gun back into his waistband. “You’re free to get out if you’re not man enough to take what you want.”

He was right. I had that instinct; I felt it for a long time. That hot blood—it would boil up in me until it felt like a volcano ready to burst. Elizabeth knew how to bring it out the worst. That woman could make me see red with rage. This, I thought, was my chance. I could be a killer. I always was, and finally I could feel it released.

“I’ll do it,” I said. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” We rode without words for a while before the stranger slowed down. He pulled off the road and into the desert. Lady by Styx was playin’. He turned the volume all the way up. The Mustang slowly bobbed and rocked across the uneven desert terrain. The song belted from the radio and through the dry expanse. He drove over the desert grass and didn’t stop for what seemed like a mile.

The road was far behind us when we came to a mound of earth; there was a shovel stickin’ out the top of the dirt. He pulled around the mound and parked the Mustang right in front of a hole in the ground. The stranger got out of the car and slammed his door closed. I sat there, unable to move. I was feelin’ like I made a mistake. “Get out the damn car,” he said with a bark. I got out of the car. There was a person in the hole; wrists bound in duct tape. She was faced away from me as I approached. The tape that covered her mouth wrapped all the way around the back of her head. She turned to face us—it was Elizabeth.

“What the…?” I didn’t understand what was happenin’. He grabbed my wrist and put the gun in my hand. Elizabeth had terror in her teary eyes. Her muffled sobs barely escaped the tight duct tape. “What is this?” I yelled. “How?” She wriggled and writhed; desperation fueled her futile efforts to escape the hole. It was too deep. Her hands taped together behind her back; her feet taped together at the ankles. She could barely move at all. Elizabeth fought with everything in her just to stand, but she couldn’t claw her way out. Lost, I gazed at my wife blankly.

I hated that damn woman—she ruined my life. Or was it me? My arm hung at my side; my finger wasn’t on the trigger. That dark cowboy grabbed my arm, pulled it up, and pointed that barrel right at Elizabeth. “Do it,” he said. She begged me with her eyes in disbelief. Her blond hair was brown with dirt. Her porcelain skin: scathed, caked with mud and blood. His hot breath tickled the back of my neck. “Pull the trigger,” he whispered. I could do it. I could be free. I stood there with the Smith & Wesson aimed. “Pull the fuckin’ trigger you spineless shit.” My finger started to squeeze on the trigger. “Gutless worm—do it!”

I broke free from his spell, turned my body like lightnin’, and fired three times. He was gone. No stranger in black; nobody at all stood behind me. And all of a sudden, all I could see was black. I heard in that stranger’s gravelly voice: “It’s time to show your true self, Sam.” I snapped to it and could see three bullet holes in the hood of my cherry red ’65 Mustang. Mystified, I approached the car. I walked around the back and found a half-used roll of duct tape in the already opened trunk. Dawn began to break.

Gun in hand I walked back to the grave. I didn’t know what happened to that stranger. I didn’t know if he was ever there at all. All I knew was that I was finally in control. As I stood there with the sun risin’ over the horizon behind me. I looked down the barrel of that gun to Elizabeth cowerin’ under my long shadow. Finger on the trigger, my hand held steady.   

Tags: ghost stories, Halloween, Horror, scary story, short fiction