Happy Halloween! I hope you’ve enjoyed the posts from this year’s Halloween page guest authors.
To end the celebration, here’s a short horror story for you. I hope you enjoy it!
Dress up, eat treats, and have fun!
Kate
Blood Runners
by Kate Hill
(Free Short Horror)
Ethan lived in the same dull town where he’d been born. At just twenty-five he had no family left and due to his quiet nature, no real friends. He worked for a local mechanic and spent his nights watching horror and porn on DVD.
Tonight would be different, though.
Tonight was October thirteenth. Every year on this night the Midnight Bikers roared through town. No one really knew who they were, but everyone stayed out of their way. On October thirteenth everyone got home before dusk and stayed in until dawn. The Midnight Bikers could come through at any time, and the streets were theirs.
Ethan, in the faded green sweatshirt he wore every day, sat in front of the window of his trailer-in-need-of-repairs. He popped open a beer and took a swallow. It might be a long night, but it would be worth it to catch a glimpse of the Midnight Bikers. Unlike everyone else he knew, they were going somewhere, and for a few brief moments Ethan would go with them–at least in his mind.
Hours passed and he nearly fell asleep, his hand wrapped around an empty beer can resting on his thigh. Then he heard it. The growl of engines.
It grew louder and louder and his heart pounded. He sat straighter and absently squashed the beer can, his gaze fixed on the road.
Ten big, black machines carrying ten riders covered from head to toe in denim and black leather zoomed past Ethan’s trailer. The rider at the rear glanced in his direction. Though Ethan couldn’t make out his entire face, he saw a flash of white teeth within the wiry black beard as the man smiled.
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait around doin’ nothin’ for another year,” Ethan said and dropped the beer can before leaping to his feet.
He hurried out of the trailer and tore across the overgrown grass as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. In front of a battered storage shed, he jumped onto the rusted bike he’d been working on for the past month. It took a moment for the engine to catch, and when it did he wasted no time before chasing the Midnight Bikers.
“Don’t die, mothefucker. Don’t die,” he whispered against the wind and pushed the rickety bike to its limits.
The Midnight Bikers had stopped in the gravel turnoff just outside of town. Tall trees, bending and creaking in the wailing wind, cast eerie shadows on them.
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, and for the first time real fear struck him. The riders stood in a circle, talking in whispers. The bikes, gleaming black and silver, all faced his direction. They seemed to have a life of their own.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Too late.
A tall, raw-boned woman strode toward him. Jeans squeezed her lean thighs and a black leather bra top left her tattooed abs exposed. The black hood covering her face and neck had spaces cut out for her dark eyes and plump, cherry-red lips.
“Hey there,” she said in a husky voice.
“Hey,” Ethan replied, trying not to sound as uneasy as he felt. His heart beat so hard his chest ached.
“Looking for company?” she asked.
“Lookin’ to get the hell out of town,” he said, this time sounding strong and determined.
“Come along with us if you want to, but you have to chip in to keep the vehicles running.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
She smiled, her teeth glistening against those let-me-suck-you lips, and beckoned him with a crook of her finger.
Ethan followed her. Two hulking men grasped him and pinned him to the gravel while the woman whipped out a straightedge razor. With every terrified breath, Ethan inhaled the scent of leather and metal.
Still grinning, the woman said, “Just a heads up. Our bikes don’t run on gas.”
***
Ethan didn’t show up for work the next day.
Or the day after that.
Or ever again.
Other than morbid curiosity and the desire for a local horror story about what might have happened to him, no one really cared.
Still, the next year on October thirteenth, those looking out their windows when the Midnight Bikers passed through town swore the skinny, hooded rider at the rear wore a green sweatshirt.
The End
Copyright 2016 Kate Hill
Revised 2018
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