Midnight Horror Show by Ben Lathrop

Author:Ben Lathrop [Lathrop, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Halloween
Amazon: B08H1CGWFR
Goodreads: 54852862
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Published: 2020-09-25T05:00:00+00:00

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1985

In the morning, I drove out to the Doughnut Land for breakfast about a quarter after seven. Then I drove east on 32 for a while trying not to think. The sky was the same color as the highway, and as the white lines passed under the car, I wondered for a second what it would be like to tap the wheel to the left when the next semi came by. After the truck rumbled past, I took a large gulp from the Styrofoam cup, then slowed and made a U-turn back towards town as soon as the road was clear.

When I phoned, I told the church’s receptionist that my name was “Carl Davidson” and that I had never been religious but felt something was lacking in my life and wanted to talk to the Reverend about it. Sometimes in this line of work you have to be a little deceptive to get people to admit things. The receptionist helpfully told me that Fowler had a meeting at the construction site of their new church but that he would be back at eleven o’clock and that she would be happy to make an appointment for then. I graciously accepted, then slipped in the back door of the place around ten thirty, and made myself at home in his office.

It was cozy and well-appointed with oak panels and shelves of books on religious teachings and tastefully placed knick knacks. When Fowler came in at about five to eleven, he seemed surprised by my presence, just as I had planned.

“Oh, uh, Mr. Davidson, I presume?” he asked. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, I was expecting you later.”

I rose and shook his hand. He had a gentle, grandfatherly presence about him. Silver hair and beard neatly combed. Gray cardigan over a white shirt and corduroys. “No problem,” I said, “And it’s Carlson, actually. Detective Sergeant.” I showed him my badge and watched for his reaction. We hadn’t ever formally met, but I was sure he had seen me at Boyd’s funeral and probably a handful of community events before then.

“I see,” he said, moving towards his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective Sergeant? I understand that you have some questions about our faith?”

“Not exactly, Reverend, but I did have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

“Are you a believer, Detective Carlson?”

I thought of every crying face I’ve seen since I became a cop. I thought of my dad, praying every night at mom’s hospital bed while she slept, and of how the cancer had killed her anyway. “I believe that once upon a time someone made an incredibly detailed and complicated machine. Then they wound it up, turned it on, and left the room.”

“I see,” he said, smiling warmly. “Well, I agree with you about the first part, anyway. I don’t suppose you came here today to have me change your mind?” His eyes twinkled and I knew that my stunt to get the upper hand wasn’t going to get me very far.

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