How many times have Jonny closed his eyes, opened then and faced a different reality of the same place, same event, but with different characters? He was not even counting anymore. He did not need to anyway. He was not going to keep a diary with every notable occurrence in this dream like place he was in. He did not need to. Everything was entering his mind as a fresh new way of learning how to be himself. Jonny placed his hands in the pockets of his black school trousers and proceeded to walk down the not so cold and chilly bridge. He had noted in his mind that it was getting warmer and warmer, which was nice. Not that he could fully experience the sheer amount of coldness surrounding him; he just felt it slightly altered. Like it was there, but he was not exactly forced to live it. It was a stretch to even say he was living, because this constant strain of events was calling the "need to gather your thoughts" a mission, but having the reel of memories torn by some force was more than a catalyst to bring everything together. Therefore, Jonny exhaled loudly and looked at the blurry buildings in front of him. Heading home has been the primary motive this whole time. His footsteps echoed slightly as he walked further down the bridge, still the same as before. Mentioning how every single object there remained the same was redundant at this point. The only ever-changing thing was the concrete cone shaped structure. He had passed it without any problem, mainly because, as mentioned before, it was unchanged.
"Nothing actually happened for it to change, it kinda makes sense for it not to" - thought the boy and continued walking with hands in the pockets.
Just as he said it, he nearly missed the big brown vehicle, slightly parked over the border of the walking lane of the bridge. It was an old Opel Vectra, slightly aged with all of the scratches and different bumps over it. Jonny approached it slowly, hearing the quiet roar of the engine trying to start. He could see the silhouette of a person, twisting the key below the steering wheel.
"Fooking Hell!" - yelled the unknown man.
Jonny nearly grinned from that profoundly British expression from the lower classes, but then remembered the morbid reason he was here altogether and regained his serious composure again. The boy got closer to the driver side of the car and tapped on the side window. The driver almost received a heart attack, but just like the boy, regained his serious composure, with a bit of anger mixed in, and rolled the window down.
-Ello lad! I am stuck! - He greeted and complained at the same time.
-HI! Can I help somehow? - asked Jonny, seeing how desperate the person was.
He looked distressed, with one big and long wrinkle etched onto his forehead. The sweat covering his completely bald temple was making the situation a bit comical, yet Jonny remained stoic in trying to be serious.
-I was gettin' myself back from below-town, and as i's was crossing this bloody bridge, me car just fookin stopped, can you believe this? - The man continued explaining, making it ever harder for young Jonny not to crack a grin.
-I can try pushing the car? We can hit the downhill of the bridge and you can use the inertia to start the car and head wherever you are heading! - proposed Jonny.
The man looked ecstatic about that.
-Oi, bloody good idea! Let us try it! - replied the man and gestured for Jonny to take place and push.
The boy did that, and began using all of his strength into pushing the vehicle. The man got out as well, pushing the front side of the car. The wheels started turning and as Jonny had proposed, the downhill of the bridge started giving its advantage. The car moved! The inertia was proving to be a good ally. The bald man entered the Opel quickly, switched the keys in the ignition and the engine finally started roaring as it should.
-Try to accelerate! - yelled Jonny, trying to see if the car would truly start and not die.
He heard the man say something unintelligible, but as he sat on the seat and started giving it some gas, the car began doing what it was supposed to do.
-Eyo, thank you mate! - yelled the man and stopped the car.
It seemed like he wanted to talk so Jonny approached the car yet again, cheerful and kinda glad it started. As he got near the still rolled down window, the happiness in his heart evaporated just like the engine that stopped roaring. The bald man was now...dead. His previously shiny head was now splattered over the wheel, with his insides covering the front windshield. The cheerful fella was gone. Jonny instinctively gritted his teeth. This was getting out of hand. He smacked the hood of the car with the rage of yet another person who had lost their live and yelled out in the empty bridge.
When he opened his eyes, again...he was yet again standing in a new place, with an old decor. His anger was more than he could handle so he got closer to the cone shaped structure and kicked the sign with all his force. It now noted:
"In loving memory of the old lady, the cat, the girl, the lone boy and the driver!"
YOU ARE READING
Cursed Tales 8 - "Ghost-Walker"
FantasyA boy is trapped, or is he? There is something missing from his mind that is forcing him to continue searching for it in a realm that is very...familiar and stale. Find out what happens when he starts to question in what kind of reality he is trappe...