It all started with the old cars hidden in the woods.

Right around a Dead Man’s bend, so named because an accident had happened there long ago. Or maybe it didn’t, no one really knew what stories were true in this town.

The cars were left there by a used car dealership that went out of business. We used them as places to hang out, get high, make out with girls.

One night we were there, stoned out of our minds, a little fire going to keep us warm. We heard a car slam. We looked at each other, wondering which of the five of us was messing around in the cars. We were all there.

Jerry flicked on a flashlight and pointed it toward where the door slam had come from.

“Evening, boys,” came the raspy voice, a sound like an old wooden coffin cracking open.

“Might I sit with you a bit? I’m a bit lonely for the company of such young fellas.”

We let him sit and stared into his face. As thin and drawn as a skull. His lips stretched into a rictus supposed to be a smile. It was an expression of malevolence and chilled us to our bones.

[sorry, couldn’t think of an ending.]