What Do You Even Name An Art Book? (Art Book #2)

Happy Halloween Ya'll!!!

Yeah it's Halloween!!! I can't wait to eat candy and pretend to be someone I'm not!

So to celebrate Halloween (and for an assignment grade in my English class) I wrote a ghost story that is supposed to have cliches and be bad. 

I call it: The Black Figurine

  It was a dark and stormy night. Just kidding it was the middle of the day. A man was getting gas for his car at an old gas station. An old man came out of the store and walked over.

"Not many people come through this town," he said, "What brings you here?"

"I'm just passing through," the man replied as he finished up. The old man shrugged.

"Ok, just let me give you a warning."

"What warning?" the man asked, suddenly intrigued.

"See that street over there?" the old man asked as he pointed to an old road leading out of town. Dead leaves were blowing over its cracked surface. The man nodded. "Don't go down that road," the old man continued.

"Why?" the man asked, suddenly suspicious.

"There's death down that road. I don't know what causes it, but folks who go that way never come back."

The man sighed. He suspected that this was just local superstition, or a joke on the part of the old man.

"Ok I'll keep that in mind," the man said as he got back into his car. Of course he went down that road.

He was highly disappointed. Sure it was old, but the road looked pretty normal. Trees lined the road, their blood red leaves slowly falling to cover the road. The only abnormal thing about the road was that it looked like it hadn't been driven on in years. That old man must be scaring everyone off.

The man drove along the road for a couple of hours. He didn't see any other cars, or any other roads branching off the one he was on. It was just a straight road going on and on for miles.

Just as the sun was getting low in the sky his car stopped. No warning, no funny noises, no smoke, it just stopped, the lights on the dashboard blinking out.

After turning the key a couple of times to no avail, the man got out of his car and opened the hood. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car, except for the fact that it wouldn't start. The man pulled out his phone to call a town truck, only to find that he didn't have any cell reception.

"Oh perfect," he grumbled, "Have I been transported into a cheesy horror movie or something?! First the old man with the cliché warning and now my car won't start?!"

Fuming, the man considered his options. He was at least two hours away from the old town, even more by foot, and it was going to be dark soon. There might be another town up ahead, but there was no guarantee.

Deciding that going back was the best option he locked his car, even though there was no point, it wouldn't start anyway, and began walking back the way he'd come. He kept a tight grip on his phone and checked it every few minutes to see if reception returned. It didn't.

As he walked the man hoped that a car would drive past so he could flag it down and ask for a ride, but some instinct told him that he wouldn't see another car. After walking for a good hour or so he began to regret not listening to the old man. Maybe the old man had cursed him for not listening. The way things had been going he would believe anything at this point.

As he was lost in thought he didn't notice where he was going, and he tripped on an object nestled in the blood red leaves on the side of the road. After falling on his face the man turned to glare at whatever he had tripped on. He saw a black object, glinting in the fading sunlight. As he stood back up he picked it up.