A Dark Collection: 12 Scary Stories
Page 26
“Something to remember me by,” the man said from the back of the truck.
“Who are you?” Sammy asked again.
The man didn’t answer for a long moment. But then he said: “Ho, ho, ho.”
The man winked and jumped down from his dark pickup truck and his old boots thudded on the ground. He slammed the tailgate of his truck closed and took two steps to the cab and somehow fit his tall, lanky body inside.
The truck started up with a roar and the “stranger” shifted into first and tore out of the parking lot. Sammy thought he could hear a deep laughter floating on the night wind from the man as he drove away.
Sammy caught a glimpse of the license plate on the back of the truck. It was a light blue plate, ice blue, and there were only three words on it: The North Pole.
• • •
Sammy awoke with a jump as his mom shook him.
What time was it? How long had he slept? He didn’t really even remember coming back home and going to bed.
“What the hell am I going to do with that?” she yelled at him as he struggled to wake up.
And last night suddenly came back to him—his two wishes, his third wish incomplete (unless he counted the can of Coke), the stranger hauling the Coke machine away.
Mom had the curtain pulled back away from his window and she pointed down at the parking lot. She had a set of keys in her hand that he’d never seen before. Sammy looked out the window and saw a brand new car parked below—a bright red Dodge Charger.
“That couldn’t have been him,” Sammy whispered to himself, not even realizing he was speaking out loud. “He wouldn’t do this to me.”
“What?!” Mom screamed. “What the hell are you talking about? Where the hell did this car come from, Sammy? You have to tell me the truth now. This is way too big now. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”
How could she believe him now? How would he ever be able to prove it to her? The Coke Machine was gone now. Old St. Nick had come and taken it back. Back to the North Pole? Or maybe he took it somewhere else to tempt and torture some other poor kid with an overactive imagination and no friends.
They went downstairs and inspected the car. The keys his mom held unlocked the door and slid easily into the ignition. She even started the car and it roared to life, and then it purred like a kitten.
But they couldn’t do anything with the car. They didn’t have a title to it, his mom told him.
Not exactly, anyway.
There was a title to the car in the glove box, but it was registered to Samuel David Johnson. Just like that, nothing else except the words The North Pole stamped in black over the ice-blue background that was the same color as the license plate on the back of the pickup truck last night.
“What am I supposed to do with this, Sammy?” she asked him as she sat in the driver’s seat holding the North Pole title.
Sammy didn’t have an answer for her. He just told her he was sorry and this wasn’t ever going to happen again. He could promise her that for sure this time.
• • •
Mom had an uncle who owned a junkyard in a city north of them. She called him up and told him about the amazing deal she had—just take the car off her hands, no questions asked.
Uncle Jerry had always been a little “shady,” Mom explained to Sammy. He was there the next day with a flatbed tow truck. He stayed for a few cups of coffee, and then he hauled the car away. Mom had seemed a little nervous the whole time. Sammy wasn’t sure if she was nervous about the car or Uncle Jerry, or both.
• • •
Over the next few weeks Sammy had a lot of time to think thanks to the grounding he got from Mom. He learned that he had to be careful for what he wished. He had wished for a car for himself and that’s exactly what he had gotten.
But now he wished something different. He wished he would’ve made some different wishes when he’d had the chance. Like for Mom’s migraines to go away. Or for more money so his mom didn’t have to slave away at “The Palace” anymore. Why hadn’t he asked for those things? Sammy cried for a while when he thought of it.
He also thought maybe Old St. Nick had meant well. Maybe he didn’t know anything about car titles.
The ten thousand dollars was under his bed and a week after Uncle Jerry had towed the car away he told her about it—he wanted to give her some time to cool down. She was upset about the money, but not as upset as she had been about the car.
She asked him again where the money had come from and he told her the truth. He wasn’t going to change his story now. Again, he promised her that it was over; he told her that a man had come and taken the Machine away.
Mom wasn’t that mad at him anymore. She decided to put the money to “good use” because she really couldn’t give it back to anyone. The money helped with their bills and Mom was able to buy a used car that ran much better than their old one.
After a while Mom stopped asking Sammy about where he’d gotten these things on this strange Christmas break. She seemed like she wanted to forget about it, and Sammy thought that maybe somewhere in the back of her mind she believed him, but didn’t want to admit it to herself. After a while she forgave him. And he forgave her for not believing him.
Sammy stayed away from all vending machines for a long time.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I really appreciate you purchasing my book and reading it. I know there are so many books to choose from these days, and I honestly thank you for taking the time to read mine. Please feel free to comment or ask any questions at MarkLukensBooks@yahoo.com. I can also be found on Facebook (MarkLukensBooks), and on Twitter @MarkLukensBooks. My website is: MarkLukensBooks.com
Please feel free to leave a review on Amazon. Reviews not only help me as an author immensely, but they also help other readers who are searching for new books to read. I read all reviews and e-mails, and I would love to hear from you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mark Lukens is an author and screenwriter. He grew up in Daytona Beach, Florida. But after many travels and adventures, he settled back down in Florida, near Tampa, with his wonderfully supportive wife, his son, and a stray cat they adopted.
He has had several stories published and has had four screenplays optioned by producers in Hollywood—one script is in development to be a film. He is the author of: Ancient Enemy, Descendants of Magic, The Summoning, Night Terrors, A Dark Collection: 12 Scary Stories, Ghost Town: a novella, Sightings, and The Exorcist’s Apprentice. He is a proud member of The Horror Writers Association.
Please feel free to comment or ask questions at MarkLukensBooks@yahoo.com and he can be found on Facebook at MarkLukensBooks and on Twitter @MarkLukensBooks. His website is: MarkLukensBooks.com
Please feel free to leave a review—I would love to hear from you!
You might also be interested in my book ANCIENT ENEMY.
Ancient Enemy … it’s been asleep for centuries and now it’s awake. It wants things … and you have to give it what it wants …
www.amazon.com/dp/B00FD4SP8M
And if you want a supernatural mystery to solve …
… you could try my book THE SUMMONING.
www.amazon.com/dp/B00HNEOHKU
And if you’re in the mood for a paranormal thriller …
… you might want to check out NIGHT TERRORS
www.amazon.com/dp/B00M66IU3U
And please check out my newest book … SIGHTINGS.
www.amazon.com/dp/B00VAI31KW
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