The Vanishing

The Vanishing

Randy drove down the winding gravel road aimlessly trying to figure out his next move. He’d almost missed the gravel turn off from the highway, but spotted the narrow entrance at the last minute in the fading sunlight. At first he’d thought it might be a private entry to a distant house, but the farther he drove, he began to think it was just a long forgotten old road. The large trees bowed over the road superstitiously, causing Randy to feel uneasy. He’d never outgrown his fear of the forest, but he didn’t have the luxury of being choosy. With the police hot on his trail, he needed somewhere secluded to hideout until things settled down. He decided to pullover so he could gather his thoughts.

He’d narrowly escaped from jail earlier that morning. He had no use for authority, so when he had grabbed a pistol from the deputy, he didn’t think twice before shooting him.

“Stupid cop”, he thought to himself as he lit a cigarette. “And a dumb ass too”, he said out loud as he blew smoke from his thin lips. He began chuckling softly when he thought about the look on the deputy’s face just before he shot him, a look of surprise and betrayal. He had gained the officer’s trust over the last few weeks by sucking up to him, he had laughed loudly at his lame jokes, and complimented his prowess as a deputy. He had even managed to squeeze out a tear by biting his tongue until he drew blood as he told the unsuspecting deputy how he considered him one of the few friends he’d ever had.

“Dumb ass”, he said again, laughing louder this time. Randy put the car seat back and began to relax as he finished his cigarette. He gave himself a big pat on the back for stealing the deputy’s car too. “A two for one job” he thought smugly as he lit another smoke.

Randy peered nervously into the forest, trying to shut out a memory from nearly thirty years ago, but his mind kept drifting back to that summer day. He thought about the boy he saw sitting by the creek in the woods behind his house. The boy had a sleek blue fishing pole, and Randy wanted it. He tried taking it from him, but the kid fought back with more force than he had anticipated. Randy scoffed as he remembered how the boy began crying as they continued to struggle, kicking up dirt and rocks as they fought. Finally in angered frustration, Randy pushed the boy hard, causing him to fall into the creek. The boy started screaming, and Randy ran into the creek after him, quickly placing his hand over the boy’s mouth. The boy tried to bite his hand, which only angered him more. He pushed him down into the water, and held him under. They locked eyes as he continued to hold him down. Randy had only intended to scare him, but he began reeling with sadistic pleasure as he forced him further down into the water. Even after the boy stopped kicking, and his body had gone slack, Randy kept holding him under, enjoying the moment of finality. He reluctantly released his hold, but continued to stare into the boys opened eyes as he tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving from exhaustion and excitement. As his breathing slowed down, he began to notice how eerily quiet the forest had become, an almost deafening silence. He nervously looked into the thick trees, feeling like he was being watched. Not seeing anyone, he looked back at the boy, then let out a frightened scream. He jumped up, still looking down at the boy’s eyes. Randy backed away, his heart pounding against his chest. But the boys eyes continued to stare back at him through his watery grave. He turned and ran, but not before grabbing the fishing pole lying beside the creek.

Randy hid the fishing pole in his room in a crawl space in the closet, then piled discarded boxes of his dad’s old albums in front of it. His dad would never come looking for the forgotten albums, he was too busy drinking, and getting high. Randy snickered at the thought of his loser father.

“Never had much use for him either”, he quipped as he looked around the tree line again. Something caught his eye in the distance. He couldn’t quite make it out as he peered through the approaching darkness. Randy started the car and began creeping farther down the deserted road. As he drew closer, he began to see the vague outline of an old dilapidated barn. It seemed to be an eerie mirage at first, wavering in and out of focus as he drew nearer, then settled into an open field as if suddenly dropped into place by an unseen hand.

Randy shrugged off his uneasiness as he drove through the overgrown field to get a better look. Strangely, there was no road at all leading to the worn out barn. He brushed off the feeling of dread that had started gnawing at him like a sneaky spider. He let the engine idle as he got out of the car and walked a bit closer.

The barn was a dull faded red, with patches of tin haphazardly thrown over potted holes in the rotting wood. He nervously lit a cigarette as he continued to take in his surroundings, darkness creeping near as the sun began setting behind the thick trees. There was a ragged bail of hay protruding from the loft, still waiting to be rescued. He tried opening the heavy barn doors, but they wouldn’t budge. It felt like they were being angrily pulled back into place, loudly banging against one another. Just as he was about to give up, the creaking doors swung open as if finally welcoming him home. His gut told him to turn around and run, like he had done thirty years ago, but he knew that would be risky.

As the sun began to dip into nightfall, he noticed an open area in the junk filled barn, big enough to squeeze his car into. Before he gave himself a chance to change his mind, he threw his cigarette down and hurried to his car. He coaxed the car in gingerly, trying to avoid the rusted out bicycles and abandoned farm equipment. Just as he turned off the engine, and started to light a cigarette, the old barn doors slammed shut with a thunderous roar, banging against one another in heated wrath. He heard the lock slap into place with violent fury, causing the doors to rattle loudly in the heavy darkness.

Randy sat in the driver’s seat motionless, raw fear suffocating him as he shook uncontrollably. His breath was ragged and harsh. He looked into the rear view mirror in paralyzing fright. Time seemed suspended in a death filled fog as he sat without moving for hours. Suddenly he started laughing with deranged ferociousness, getting frantically louder as he continued to stare into the darkness behind him. A ghostly figure stood behind the car, seeming to pierce through the darkness with murderers vengeance. It slowly made its way around the car, drifting closer and closer. Randy tried looking away, but something seemed to have an unbreakable cold grip on him, forcing him to watch the horror unfold. As he stared into the unforgiving darkness before him, the ghostly apparition appeared in front of the car. It stood as still as death, seeming to pierce his soul with its very presence. The ghostly figure began to take shape. Before he could even scream, he saw that it was the deputy he had shot that very morning. His face still held a look of surprise and betrayal as Randy choked on his own fear. The deputy smiled in pleasure as Randy sputtered incoherently as he tried to scream. He felt the grip on him grow tighter as his heart began pounding fiercely, as if trying to fight its way out. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw the face of a young boy, the same boy he had drowned in the creek all those years ago.

“I want my fishing pole back” he gasped, water falling from his dead lips. Randy slumped in his seat, his body giving out, his mind overtaken with fear as a blubbered unintelligibly. He began laughing hysterically as the barn doors swung open, shards of morning sunlight piercing through the darkness like daggers. He looked into the rear view mirror one last time, seeing the deputy and the little boy walking away through the field hand in hand, the boy holding his fishing pole on his shoulder. The old barn turned into a deathly mist before vanishing into the depths of hell, taking Randy’s cursed soul with it to spend eternity in the ghostly barn.