The Vandal

Printer-friendly version

broken-stone.jpgThe Vandal
by Anon Allsop

You may have read this before, I just wanted to have this story linked to my author page.

A car pulled to a stop along a desolate road and turned off the lights. "I don't want to do this, I can't afford to get into trouble - my folks will kill me!"

"Quit being a pussy and come with us!" The drunken teen tossed a bottle out the Ford's window and opened the passenger door. "Come on Abbs, he's obviously not got the nerve to have some fun. Wait here, we won't be long." He picked up the remaining beers and staggered away from the car.

The driver looked toward the girl. "You don't have to go with him, Abby."

She hesitated for only a second and then slid out of the car to follow her boyfriend over the fence, and on up the hill. The remaining teen swung his door open and stood beside the car contemplating his next step.

***

Her eyes slowly opened; listening intently she heard the sound again. People were talking not far away. She often heard the strange speaking of the living, and as long as they didn't bother her rest, she ignored them. To return to her eternal sleep was impossible, as the commotion from above would not allow her to relax.

She lifted her head slightly and sighed. It had grown quiet above, and she incorrectly assumed the living had passed; it was then that a putrid smell came to her nostrils.

The odor seemed to be growing stronger. She frowned and slowly rose from her earthly place and looked up. Liquid was seeping into the soil
overhead; she raised her ghostly hand and smelled the wet earth.

The vile expression that crossed her face would have made even the stoutest hunter of ghosts tremble in fear. She began to push her way out of the earth, hoping that the defiler of her sanctuary would leave before she reached the surface.

***

The two meandered through several ancient gravestones, making their way to the very top of the historic cemetery. "Check this out, Abbs!" The
laughing youth began to urinate. "I'm watering the plants!"

She started to pour her beer onto the grave nearest her, "Here...." she examined the name on the grave, "Have a drink on me!"

She staggered giggling to where her boyfriend was and looked down at the stone, "You're peeing on Constance Chalfont's grave?"

"Who the hell is she?" he groused as he finished and zipped up.

"She was burned at the stake for being a witch!"

He shrugged and smiled, "Here's what I think of that..." Turning back to the stone he kicked it until it cracked and fell backward. It broke again as it hit the ground.

***

From deep within her chest she began to shriek hideously; it started as a muffled squeal, but grew in pitch. As she broke through the ground, a
look of sheer terror crossed the countenance of the teens.

As the ethereal being lifted into the air, great flowing garments seemed to twist and drift in the wind around her as though they too were alive. She lowered her gaze to the man who defiled her grave, his face now ashen in fear. With a flick of her wrist he began scream and slowly melt onto the ground. The putrefying sludge that had been the boy began to flow toward the broken cemetery marker.

Her gaze then lifted to the girl, frozen in sheer terror. Somehow, the girl willed her feet to move and began to run. The ancient witch stretched out her bony hand and caused the female to become almost statue like.

The young teen's legs slowly became covered with bark and vines, rising up her torso and over her shoulders. Her terrified screams fell silent
as the wood closed over her mouth, leaving a strange and macabre face within the twisted bark. Disjointed limbs ran askew from her arms and
fingers, their ends rattling in the late autumn wind. The young female's long hair drifted among the branches as they morphed into a canopy of dried leaves and vines.

To her left the witch watched what was left of the boy ooze and creep into the cracks of the stone, creating some sort of human bond. Each broken piece seemed to pull itself together and return to its normal upright position.

Her gaze was slowly drawn down the hill until it fell upon a horror stricken young man who stood trembling beside a car. He was trying desperately to open the door. She scowled, lifting slowly into the air and toward the fumbling teen. She knew that he had no part in the desecration of her grave, yet it was obvious to her that he was with the others, and most likely too weak to face her wrath head-on.

The apparition raced toward the car as the young man fought with the key in the ignition. Just as she reached the car, the motor roared to life. Toward the passenger window she flew, straight at him, his face washed with horror, his mouth agape as he screamed. At the very last second he flattened himself along the car's bench seat.

The specter blew through the car with the force that rocked it from side to side, yet it was not enough to deter the youth from throwing gravel as he was speeding away. She flew alongside as the young man drove furiously, swerving to avoid her from coming into his own window. Quickly, he tried rolling it up in a feeble attempt of slowing her.

With a shrillness reminiscent of a horror film, she screamed like a banshee into his window. Thrusting her hand through the window, she clutched at his collar and tried to drag him out as he drove. Gnarled and knobby knuckles hang onto his shirt, pulling him close to her withered face. She hissed in his ear, her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "You can surely run from me wench, but you can never flee my wrath!" He could feel her icy breath against his cheek as he raced at a breakneck pace.

Finally, she left go of his collar and laughed hideously after him for a distance. His furtive gaze kept an eye in his mirror and often he would look back over his shoulder. It was then that he realized that she no longer followed, and could breathe easy again.

Minutes later, he pulled to a stop safely in his driveway. He sat shaking from fear as what had just happened replayed over and over in his mind. Slowly he caught his breath, stepped out and closed the door. Leaning on his trembling arms against the car, he cried.

Finally after several minutes he opened his eyes and lifted his head, with a sweep of his hand he pushed an unusually long lock of hair aside and deftly tucked it behind his ear. As he started to turn, his gaze caught sight of his reflection in the car's window. His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his chest. "...oh my god!"

up
204 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

Better ...

... girl than dead :)

Totally

Totally agree with that. :)

wow

licorice's picture

so the boy and the girl were killed and turned into part of the grave? Or are their minds still active? 'cause that would be horrifying.

The dangers of messing with the dead

Excellent! As a short story it stands alone. As the intro to a series, it is up to the author.Many thanks

GLAD

Glad, I didn't read this at the end of an evening I wouldent sleep
Great story Wow

Jeanette Student

Was it a coincidence

That this story showed up as a solo on Halloween? The wench line kind of gave it away but still anice little piece of horror.

Commentator
Visit my Caption Blog: Dawn's Girly Site

Visit my Amazon Page: D R Jehs