True Ghost Stories and Hauntings 3

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True Ghost Stories and Hauntings 3 Page 7

by Simon Murik


  Climbing on the bike, I looked back at Fast Eddie’s. The gold neon sign blinked on and off as the strains of Werewolves of London echoed out of the bar. Be careful out there. “Whatever,” I said quietly.

  I kicked the bike in the guts, backed out of my spot and roared out of the parking lot onto the dark stretch of backwoods road. I’d driven down here from Michigan and was going to hit the Florida coast for a couple of weeks before I headed west. Those yahoos at the bar weren’t going to spoil my good time though. I’d been riding lone wolf for the past eight years and had heard every stupid story in every stupid small town I’d been in.

  So Fast Eddie’s ghost story barely raised my pulse.

  The road veered left a bit and at the curve some kind of short, stubby animal darted from the roadside into the woods. I looked back up at the road and my heart froze.

  A strange white light now flowed onto the road from the woods. I slowed the bike and rode up to the light. The wind blew hard again and I braced myself so I wouldn’t topple over. “Look ovvvver,” the wind seemed to whisper in my ear.

  I turned my head and about a thousand goose bumps popped up on my forearms.

  A white cross glowed like a soft burning sun about fifty yards deep into the woods.

  Jesus, the kooks at the bar had been telling the truth about somebody being buried out here.

  I stared at the cross and after a few seconds my eyes adjusted and I saw that a thin, dark trail led up to it.

  “Come cloooser,” the wind whispered.

  I got off the Harley and started walking.

  The leaves on the trees rustled louder with each step I took and when I got to within about ten feet of the cross, the branches were whipping around in an almost angry frenzy.

  I knew I should get back to my bike but I’d come this far and I loved a good thrill. It was like a kid’s game. I would touch the cross and then I was out of here.

  The wind howled even harder after my next few steps, and aside from the glowing cross, everything was so black it seemed like there was zero separation between the forest, sky, and ground.

  Stepping up to the cross I reached out and set my hand on it.

  A scream like a man in intense pain tore through the air and I jerked my hand back so hard that I stumbled backwards and fell onto the cold grass. My heart was going a mile a minute and my legs felt like Jello but I pushed myself to my feet and started running back towards the road. Another scream pierced through the darkness as I scrambled over the slick grass, praying I didn’t fall again. A second later I skidded to a stop at the roadside and without looking back, went to my bike, hopped on, and took off.

  A blast of wind rushed by me so fast that the front of my bike jerked hard left. I straightened the bike out just before it hit the grass and my eyes popped open wide when I saw a gray blur of a man riding high on a streak of orange vaguely shaped like a motorcycle. My head spun and I whispered “No way,” as it raced off into the darkness.

  I gave the bike some juice and the speedometer climbed to sixty. The starless sky was like a heavy black blanket over the road and other than my bike’s night beam there wasn’t a damn bit of light anywhere. Another blast of cold wind rocked the bike but I braced myself better this time and saw the blur of bike and man shoot past me again. How the hell was this real and how in the hell did he come up behind me again?

  As before, he shot off into the distance; as soon as he vanished another wall of cold slammed into me as the speed machine from Hell stormed by for a third time. My wheels wobbled and the bike rattled like a train was running over it and I hit the brakes, using every ounce of my two hundred pounds to keep the bike from flying off the road and into the trees. I brought the bike to the center of the road and gripped the handle bars hard as I picked up speed. Just had to make it to Mission. Fifty mph … sixty mph … seventy mph. When the bike hit eighty-five I could feel the temperature drop and I braced for the icy sideswipe.

  And then my headlight lit up a green sign standing at the side of the road about a hundred feet ahead.

  Mission Road.

  I throttled down and the bike hit ninety as the icy air pushed harder and harder and the front wheel buckled.

  Almost there …

  Another scream made my ear drums throb and my spine shake. My head started to ache and the bike spun out from under me. I hit the pavement hard and rolled a good ten feet before stopping like a cold sack of potatoes. My back felt like it’d been whacked with a baseball bat but I didn’t think anything was broken.

  I looked up to see that I was on the other side of Mission Road.

  And then I looked back down the road.

  The ghost robber stared at me at the edge of Mission. He hovered over his bike in a wispy orange light for a few seconds and then turned around and sped off, fading into the night like a dying flame. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the sky.

  My bike was shredded and who knew how long I’d have to wait before someone could come and get me.

  I sighed, got to my feet, and staggered to my bike. I picked the battered hog up and rolled it to the side of the road. My cell phone was smashed and I wasn’t sure what I should do.

  Hell, I didn’t even know what I should think. Had this all happened? Or was I just turning into another road warrior burnout—seeing things and hearing things that no sane person ever would?

  The wind picked up again and I pulled my jacket tight.

  Or maybe, just maybe, when you ride long enough you find out that there are things that exist that aren’t supposed to. That reality isn’t a hundred percent what you’d always thought it was. And that life isn’t always about getting all the answers … I think.

  Did you enjoy this book?

  If you enjoyed reading this book, please consider leaving a positive review on Amazon so others might find it. If there was something you believe needed changing or you didn’t like, please email the publisher with your comments at [email protected]

  Additional books of interest from Paranormal Publishing available on Amazon and at www.PararnormalPublishing.net

  Volumes I and II: True Ghost Stories and Hauntings

  More stories about ghosts and hauntings from Simon B. Murik.

  Boxed set of Volumes I, II, and III (Kindle)

  For kids: Ghost Coloring Book

  Kids love coloring these ghosts as they bring them to life. Let your imagination fly and have lots of fun with this spooky activity book!

 

 

 


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