Ben Kalcher [Kalcher - The Devil’s Dirt Road

The Devils Dirt Road

Copyright

Ben Kalcher2014

ErinholmPublishing

This short storyis based on events of the

authors ownimagination. Any resemblance to actual events

or to anyone deador alive is purely coincidental. The author wishes to

express hisgratitude for downloading the short story.

Thankyou.

Also by Ben Kalcher

Mouse and Cat

Whiskey

The Devils Dirt Road

When the clock chimes midnight,

It will get to eat

October 31 st 1839

Thursday, October 31 st , 12:30 A.M.

It has anappetite for human flesh. Its dark eyes watch from the treeline asits sharp teeth long to penetrate the soft, supple skin of itsvictim. It waits patiently, sensing that victim moving closer. Forthe first time in years, it will get to eat before disappearingback into the dark abyss from which it came, until it hungersagain.

As for the victims, they never see itcoming ; powerless to its aura, a deathso certain and so horrifying that it would make the hair stand onend on the bodies of even the toughest of men. It leaves itsvictims begging for an instantaneous death, but it always opts fora slow, painful demise. First it peels the victims skin awaybefore pulling the unfortunate soul apart limb by limb. It playswith its victims until their very last breath. No one has ever seenthe creature and lived to tell the tale. Many have fabricatedstories and myths about it, but even then, they are merelyfantasies; old wives tales that fail to describe the true horrorthat the victims face.

Tonight, itgets to eat

--

Thursday, October 31 st , 2:19 A.M.

Weak and tired,the young girl focused all her energy on gripping the horsesreins. The horse, tired from the intense journey, stood hunchedover a large puddle, looking down at its own reflection; it senseddanger but was too tired to react. In a trancelike state, Rachaelclimbed down off the horse, and with little unease, walked awayfrom it. A calm breeze washed through her hair, weaving each stranddelicately. She reached up and, with the tips of her fingers,massaged her scalp. Her hair was greasy and unwashed, long days oftravelling across the country having done her hair and skin nogood; the rain has done little to help either.

Leaving thehorse behind, she headed towards the blocked-off dirt road. Shegently pushed aside the branches of a low-hanging tree andmanoeuvred through the gap. Gravel crunched under her weight as shemoved slowly down the dirt road, which had been barely used for along time. Amongst the trees, the cries of a crow broke thesilence, as the skeletal arms of the trees mockingly waved her onwith the help of the wind. If only they could talk but that wouldbe silly; everyone knows that trees cannot talk.

She could feela presence, but couldnt sense any impending danger. Amongst thebushes and trees that lined the road, something moved. Drawn to it,Rachael crossed from one side of the road to the other toinvestigate. This was the moment to which she had been lured, themoment that this trancelike state was drawing her to.

Slowly, a tall, menacing figure strode out of the treeline and steppedin front of her. The trance that had its grip on her was finallybroken. She blinked her eyes and looked around in a white panic asa scream as loud as any she had ever heard escaped her throat. Sheturned in horror and was about to run just as a long, clawed armgrabbed her, piercing her shoulder. She cried out in pain as shewas dragged back forcefully.

She begankicking her legs frantically in an attempt to escape, but it was nouse; her petticoat restricted her movements, and the pain in hershoulder was excruciating. The dark, mysterious figure grabbed herother shoulder without piercing into her body. Her left shoulderwas now covered in blood, as was the top of her dress. They stoppedmoving for a moment as the creature bent over and ran its long,slimy tongue along her neck line, getting a taste of her suppleskin. The smell of rotting flesh was overpowering. Rachael feltsick but managed to avoid throwing up.

The creaturepulled again, dragging Rachael into the treeline and further fromthe road. Her screams were now frantic as all light from the skyabove disappeared. She fainted from the loss of blood.

The groans ofthe creature now filled the night sky as it took her into Hell.

--

Thursday, October 31 st , 7:43 P.M.

DetectiveMichael Cartwright rubbed his eyes, trying to fight the sleep thatwas attempting to force itself on him. Opposite him, Detective JohnWatts was shifting through paperwork, which was his fort. Helooked away and reached for his cup, half full of three-hour-oldblack coffee. He stared into the dark abyss, contemplating whetherto finish what he expected would be a very bitter drink or make afresh cup. In the top drawer of his desk, a bottle of brandyremained half full Watts would say it was half empty, that wasjust his sense of humour, either could be true but the main thingwas that he had a means of escape from the bitter, cold coffee.

You know, staring at it wont make it any warmer, Wattssaid, smiling to himself, eyes fixed on the paper in front of him.If Watts wasnt at a desk or alongside Cartwright, he would befound in a public house, drowning his last bit of sanityaway.

Eh?

The coffee. Thats as warm as itll get.

Cartwright putthe cup down. Ive got to develop my magic powers.

If warming liquids is your magic power, youve definitelydrawn the short straw.

He sighed. Isuppose I have. Cartwright stood up and walked over to the window.A heavy downpour crashed against the glass. The street below wasbarely recognisable through all the rain. Horse drawn carriagesmade their way along the cobbled roads, resembling phantoms of thenight.

Doesnt look as if itll stop, said Watts, putting the neatstack of papers to one side. He got up and joined Cartwright at thewindow.

Indeed, old chap.

Behind, anofficer stormed into the office. Its happened again, he said,out of breath.

What has? Watts asked.

The Devils Dirt Road, sir.

The Devils what? Cartwright replied.

Watts turnedto him. Surely you know about the Devils Dirt Road?

Im not familiar with the term.

Not a term, but a name of a dirt road in Ravenglass. Care toexplain, officer? asked Watts. He returned to his desk and optedto sit on its edge rather than in the chair again.

The officerstood opposite them and looked at the cold coffee beside him. Heshook his head. A waste of good coffee, he said, pushing the cupfurther away from himself. The Devils Dirt Road is an old,abandoned track just outside of Ravenglass. It has been blocked offfrom all other roads, but still, people manage to get themselves onit. Every so often, someone is lured to the road; despite all thewarning signs and information forbidding people to use it, theystill do. Its like theyre drawn to it and have no way of stoppingthemselves. Either that, or theyre plain stupid and have no regardfor their own safety.

Cartwrightsmirked. Youre having me on, arent you?

Far from it, Watts remarked.

We dont know whats down there. No one has ever come back totell the tale. The officer passed Watts an incident report.Rachael Miller; nineteen years old, from London. She was visitingher aunt in Ravenglass. Left her aunts home at some time aroundmidnight; without a word, stole her late uncles horse, and rode itto the Devils Dirt Road. Her uncles horse was found wanderingnearby Rachael has yet to be found.

What is it to do with us?

The local law enforcement has requested help from us,personally.

Jolly good, said Watts, with a smile plastered on his face.Ive always had an interest in the Devils Dirt Road.

I wish I shared your enthusiasm, old chap. Whats thepossibility of finding her? Cartwright asked.

Very slim, replied the officer. As I say, no one comes outto tell the tale.