Dark Matter Presents Haunted Reels by David Lawson

Author:David Lawson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Matter Magazine
Published: 2023-07-23T18:31:58+00:00

Sprout

Jordan Goldstein

I wasn’t always the town witch.

I grew up here, on this plot of land, outside the small town of Daybreak, Kansas. My parents, whom I loved very much, both died when I was sixteen. After that, I guess my self-imposed reclusion rubbed people the wrong way.

The chatter was innocent at first, but the growing talk of me eating stray cats, worshiping the devil, and murdering my folks started to feel crass. I have no issue with being alone, so I don’t see why others do.

• • •

It was pretty late, around 11:15 or so, when I bore witness to a summer meteor shower. My folks loved this type of stuff. They’d spend most nights outside, just sitting quietly next to one another. To them, there was no purpose in talking too much on nights like tonight because they felt it would spoil the fun.

But when they did speak, they spoke plainly and somewhat sensitively about the hues and mixtures of light in the sky. I can’t articulate as well as they did about what transpired above me on this night. I just thought it looked pretty.

At some point during meteor shower, a small meteorite fell from the sky and landed in my corn field. Its bright blue glow made it easy to find even amid the tall rows of corn. I walked over to it, knelt down, and noticed it seemed to be pulsating. Then, it flamed out.

• • •

Chester, my small Jack Russell Terrier, slept beside me on the couch while an old Arthur Kennedy western was playing on the television. This was my time of quiet comfort. Being able to linger in the silence of the night while having it blend with faint gun battles and lover’s quarrels from the tube. It’s what I cherish most.

But my solace was cut short by a steady rumble which started to shake the foundation of my house. I shot up and rushed to the kitchen, where I saw the dishes clatter about. I turned back towards the living room and saw through the front room’s curtained window a repeating flash of light. The light streaked across the curtains, went dark, then seconds later, streaked across the curtains again. Chester started barking at the sight, and I went to the window and peeked through the curtains to inspect.

Outside was a large pickup truck, driving circles all over my crops, the bucking headlights streaking across my face with each bumpy, cornstalk-crushing revolution.

I immediately recognized the truck as belonging to Sam Miller, a local teenage burn-out, and I knew that his friends Billy Young and Eddie Palmer were most likely in the car with him, all stoned out of their minds and cracking up like red-eyed maniacs. I ran out onto the porch and hollered at the truck, “What the fuck are you boys doing?!” I had closed the door on Chester before he could follow me outside, and he was now barking loudly from the window.

The truck did another full spin, then

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