#i went on a 40 road exactly once and it ended quite terribly. scared the driving instructor

[neonacidtrip]

[image ID: a screenshot of a discord chat with username “wenge (when-gay)’ carrying out a one-sided conversation expressing her reluctance and fears regarding driving at 1:08 a.m. the other person in the conversation’s responses are not shown]

[365days365movies]

January 21, 2021: The Wages of Fear (1953)

What exactly is a thriller, anyway?

Now, I’ve repeatedly considered having thrillers take up their own month, considering that they’re considered one of the core eleven film genres. However, they intersect so commonly with other genres, that I’ll be incorporating it into other months this year.

The definition of the thriller or suspense genre relies on surprise and intrigue. The audience is made unaware of certain information, giving a sense of mystery to the movie’s setting. The protagonist is often also unaware of these certain things, although that certainly isn’t a requirement. 

Sometimes, they’re as innocent as the audience, if not moreso, and may be getting manipulated during the course of the story. Escapes, chase sequences, clear or hidden dangers, all of these meant to build suspense and unnerve the audience. It doesn’t have the overt scares of a horror film, and its action scenes build up to a feeling of building dread. They’re adrenaline-raising, heart-pounding, edge-of-your-seat films. 

We’ve already covered one of the most prominent subgenres, the spy movie. We’ll cover more during Horror October, naturally, and a couple more this month. Comedy April’s even going to have a comedy thriller or two, while Romance February will pack an erotic thriller in there. Oh, and let’s not forget Crime July and Drama December. Like I said, they’ll be all over the place. Today, though, we cover one of the seminal French action thrillers, similar to our last two entries, but MUCH older. Enter Jean-Georges Clouzot.

Clouzot is one of the old-school French directors, even though he debuted quite late as compared to most, in 1942. A French Alfred Hitchcock, Clouzot’s first solo film was The Murderer Lives at Number 21. And surprisingly, it’s known as a comedy-thriller, and made a splash in theaters when it debuted in 1943. Which is interesting, given that whole World War II kerfuffle at the time. His most famous film, however, came in 1955, and was called Les Diaboliques. And THAT’S a psychological thriller that may end up on my list for October.

But two years before that, he made an action thriller. You know where this is going at this point, so let’s get on with it! SPOILERS AHEAD for The Wages of Fear!

Recap

Before we start, a tiny disclaimer: GIFs were...impossible to find for this one. HOWEVER, I miraculously found a recolored copy that I was able to convert into GIFs. I prefer the black-and-white version, which is how I watched it, but SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE

We start in Las Piedras, a small village in a Spanish-speaking country somewhere in Central America. A group of men speaking French, English, and Spanish are relaxing on a saloon porch, trying to beat the heat. These men include Mario (Yves Montand) and Bimba (Peter van Eyck). His girlfriend (?) Linda (Véra Clouzot, the director’s wife) works as a servant in the saloon.

Eventually, the men are told to leave, with Bimba being told to go to the airport to pick up mail. Arriving on the plane - other than a man with a whole-ass GOAT, which must have made for a fun flight for EVERYBODY involved - is a rich-looking man in a white suit and a fancy fly-swatter.

Our man, who’s French, runs into Mario, who is also French. This is Jo (Charles Vanel), who, despite looking rich, is out here looking for something monetary. Mario, after being weirdly cold to Linda, leaves for his home where he lives with Luigi (Folco Lulli), who speaks Italian. A real polyglot of a movie, this one. 

Over the course of a montage of indeterminate time, we find out that there’s no work in this town for the various men, who are stuck in this town because of the desert surrounding it, expensive tickets, and no jobs or employment opportunities. We also find out that since there’s oil, there are Americans.

The Southern Oil Company, SOC, dominates the town due to nearby oil fields. They aren’t the best, though, and they tend to treat the townspeople pretty terribly. Jo inquires for a job there, to no avail, and reconvenes with Jo. After treating Linda and Luigi, to be frank, like ABSOLUTE shit, Mario...WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND

HOLY SHIT, MARIO AND LUIGI LIVE TOGETHER. REALLY?!? Holy shit.

Jo’s a dick, it turns out, which causes a rift between the two Frenchmen and the others. After literally getting the entire saloon angry with his antics, he threatens the nice Luigi with a gun, causing a tense atmosphere with everybody. After literally handing Luigi a gun to shoot him, the dejected man leaves the bar, dejected. Like I said...Jo’s an absolute DICK.

The next morning, something’s happened. The oil field has caught on fire, killing some of the residents who worked there. This causes some anti-foreigner rhetoric, which’ll probably spell trouble for our mostly foreigner cast. The foreman is Bill O’Brien (William Tubbs), who’s asked to handle the situation by his bosses. The only way to put out the fire is to generate an explosion triggered by nitroglycerin. Which seems...backwards, but I don’t know how oil works. They need to transport the nitroglycerin to the field, but the job is too dangerous for unionized workers. Therefore, the idea is formed to bring in some of the unemployed men, especially those that hang around the saloon. And, of course, that includes Mario, Jo, Bimba, and Luigi.

Speaking of Luigi, sad news. Looks like his construction job has resulted in cement powder depositing in his lungs, giving him 6 months to a year to live. Shame, he seems like a very nice guy. And so, considering that this job is dangerous, but follows a lot of money...he doesn’t have much to lose.

One of the people at the briefing immediately backs out upon learning about the job. He notes that this job infects men with fear that they can’t recover from. For that fear, the wages are $2500 per person. Only four people can do this job; two per truck, with one driver and one passenger. After some trials, Mario, Luigi, Bimba, and Smerloff, a German, are chosen. Jo isn’t good enough, much to his own dismay. However, as Bill and Jo are old friends of sorts, they make a deal; if one of the men doesn’t show up, Jo can take his place.

That night, the men (sans Jo) gather in the saloon. One young man, an Italian named Bernando who wasn’t chosen, gives Linda a note to mail to his mother. Sadly, there’s a reason for that that I won’t show here. But while they tell him that there’ll be a next time, he insists that their won’t be. I’ll let you fill in the tragic blanks.

The next morning, Smerloff doesn’t show up, having last been seen with, uh...with Jo. Wonder where Smerloff went. Well, predictably, Jo ends up replacing him. Jo and Mario go first, after winning a coin toss. They drive off hauling their truck loaded with nitroglycerin, and you can feel the fear begin to set in for Mario. As they drive through town, Linda tries to say goodbye, only for Mario to literally push her off the truck, MAN, I don’t like this guy.

As the truck drives, they encounter their first obstacle: Jo. As he’s driving, fear would appear to set in for him as well. He overcomes a couple of large puddles, but begins to shiver and sweat, saying that he’s sick. But no, he’s definitely just nervous, and they stop the truck in a forest of sugarcane so that Jo can take a break. However, they have to get going quickly, as the second truck is close behind them.

In the second truck, Bimba and Luigi talk a bit, with the affable Luigi doing most of that talking. But when Jo and Mario stop for a second time, they tell the pair off and drive past. Because of this, they hit the first real obstacle: a stretch of rough and bumpy road called the washboard. To get over it, one has to go 40 mph to get over the bumps. If not, then the truck will feel the bumps, and the nitroglycerine will explode.  Luigi and Bimba get over with some difficulty, finding out that the gas in their truck contains water, and needs to be changed.

As for Jo and Mario, Jo’s nervousness costs them time and energy, as he refuses to speed up to the proper speed before getting on the washboard. They have to back up (inside their own tire tracks), and Mario officially takes over the wheel. And he starts going fast...too fast.

They almost collide with the other truck, but Luigi and Bimba speed up in time. Next obstacle: a road under construction. A K-turn is needed, and that turn requires a flimsy wooden construction to be driven on. It isn’t easy, the very competent Luigi and Bimba manage it all right. Jo and Mario get there, and Jo, predictably, FREAKS OUT. 

Mario, on the other hand, is overly reckless. In order to get over the rotted out road, Mario has to drive to the very edge of the construction. Jo, who was guiding him from the back of the truck, ends up tumbling over the side. While Mario thinks he’s dead, Jo instead takes the opportunity to straight-up run away, although Mario does see him. This is a problem, as the truck begins to slide on the wood without Jo’s help. But Mario, ever-resourceful, figures it out. But...

OH SHIT! Mario gets off the construction just as it’s starting to collapse. He makes it forward, and passes the cowardly Jo, who tries to get back onto the truck.Mario, UNDERSTANDABLY PISSED, almost leaves him behind, but finally stops so that he can get rejoin. The two get into an argument, where Mario calls Jo out for once being brave, but now being a coward. Jo tells Mario that he has no imagination, and that Jo’s “died fifty times since last night.” I love that line, honestly.

Back to Luigi and Bimba. They talk about life after the money, even though we’re aware that Luigi doesn’t have much of that left. It’s then that the next obstacle appears: a talus slope, from which a giant rock has fallen, and blocks the road. Bimba has the...bright idea (?) of using the nitroglycerin to blow up the stone. Which I feel like is an...idea.

They make a hole in the rock, then siphon some nitro out of a container. The others catch up, and back the trucks away, leaving Bimba by himself to do the deed. And it is...ABSOLUTELY NERVE-WRACKING HOLY SHIT. After setting up a Rube-Goldberg device and pouring the nitroglycerin into a hole in the rock, Bimba lights a fuse and sets it to blow. 

But because they fear they;ve parked too close, Luigi runs back to put out the fuse! Too late, though, as the nitro blows, and rocks fly, almost falling on the trucks in the process. As for Luigi...he survives! Knocked out by the shock from the explosion, but not injured. In the process, the rock is finally destroyed, and Mario and Luigi finally reconcile as friends.

Back on the drive with Luigi and Bimba! We find out that Bimba’s a German, whose parents died at the hands of the Nazis. He himself was in a work camp for 3 years, which is why he is as brave as he is. Behind them, Jo and Mario talk of France, and Jo rolls a cigarette.

...FUCK. 

Luigi and Bimba are gone. Like that. This, of course, freaks out Jo, who runs away from the truck. Mario catches up, and beats Jo for his cowardice. They return to the truck, albeit very reluctantly on Jo’s part. They make it to the site of the explosion, where there’s...no sign. No sign of the truck, of the guys, nothing. Just a busted pipe spitting up oil, creating a massive puddle.

Jo goes into the shallow pool to guide Mario through it, but gets stuck in the pool in the process. Mario runs over his leg, and the truck itself gets stuck in the oil. Mario gets out of the truck and helps Jo, whose leg is FUUUUUUUUUCKED up. I mean it, it’s like a busted sausage link, like a sock made of MEAT. It’s not OK, is what I’m saying.

Mario, using a cable, an iron rod, and his wits, manages to pull the truck out of the oil pool. He gets Jo, and the drive continues. Jo, in pain and possibly bleeding out, is close to falling asleep. To keep him awake, the two talk about Paris. Day turns to night, and Mario continues to drive. They finally make it to the burning oil field...but too late for Jo.

Mario’s finally able to get out of the truck, and stumbles towards the fire and collapses. Not dead, just exhausted. He gets all of the money promised to the four, and leaves in the now empty truck to go back to Las Piedras. Free of nitroglycerine and free of fear, he gleefully drives back. In the saloon, the patrons celebrate Mario’s survival while listening to Blue Danube, and so does Mario! And Mario is driving...carefree. And recklessly.

...That’s The Wages of Fear. See you in the Epilogue.

[nolongerbrittney]

21

My 21st birthday was nothing special.

I lived in a house with a roommate that I met at my day job. I had two jobs most of my life haha and at 21 I worked 40 hours a week during the day as an accounting assistant and 20-30 hours in the evening/nights as a tanning salon manager. I was comfortable and content. My roommate and I had become each others best and only friends. We had 3 dogs and we were both single. On my 21st birthday we went and ate tacos and went to a concert at a local favorite bar, we were trashed and broke, but we felt awesome and had the best time!!!

About a month later I met a man on social media, he was posting cute puppies and awesome cars with some money in some of the pictures. We started talking and he asked me to meet him in person. He was black, that was something new and different for me. It had been years since I had dated someone and it had been almost a full year since I had slept with someone, I was definitely out of my comfort zone. We were attached QUICK. He was staying at my house every night, coming for dinner soon as he left work, he eventually talked me into quitting my second job so I would be one more… my roommate never became a fan but she was respectful. As the weeks and months passed, he faded into something I didn’t like…he didn’t come around as often, he was out of town all the time, we argued constantly, he seemed to always need money, he wouldn’t let me meet his kids, and honestly I had never even been to his house. My roommate consoled me every single night I was crying and upset. I would stay home alone instead of going out to concerts or the bar with her, waiting on him to come over just to be let down when he never showed up. I was getting really tired of it really fast.

In August, 2 months after my birthday, I was at my boyfriends job when a truck pulled into the parking lot. When I tell you this was a really nice truck those words do no justice. I had never seen a truck so customized and so unique. It was a brand new ford platinum limited edition, it had amazing huge wheels and rims on it, it had a cover on the truck bed which in turn kind of gave it the big SUV look. I was In love with that vehicle. My boyfriend then got angry and started swearing under his breath pushing me out of the office toward my car telling me that I had to leave because this customer did not need to see me. The immature girl In me got defensive thinking he was hiding me for another woman or something…OH how little did I know how much he was trying to save me.

The man that hopped out of that truck was like no one I had ever seen before. He was different. He was older, light perfect skin, everything he was wearing was matching and I knew it was designer (I just didn’t know the name), he had gold chains around his neck, when he smiled it was complete diamonds (real diamonds), and the way he looked at me could’ve made me pass out. haha! He came over and asked me my name, where I was from, and why I wasn’t his… I remember telling him my name and a few things about me then I told him that I was there because this was my boyfriends business. He laughed and told me I need to be taught how to live life and know my worth. I left and went home. I didn’t see or hear from my boyfriend for two straight days. I knew I messed up by staying there that day, he was so scared for me to meet the man who pulled up in the truck that day. I just didn’t understand why yet.

During those two days of the silent treatment from A I went to work like normal and hung out with my roommate. I told her about the man I met with the truck and the diamonds and she told me he sounded like trouble and like an idiot. I ignored her and found him on Facebook. He added me instantly and began blowing up my notifications by commenting on almost everything I had ever posting. He was saying everything publicly that I wanted my boyfriend to do and say. I was lucky if A even liked a photo or a status, let alone commented on something publicly. The attention this new older man was giving me continued all day every day and I was beginning to love it.

My boyfriend and I began arguing almost everyday. Sometimes it was just better if we didn’t talk or see each other. This new man had began coming into town on the weekends and spending them with me at my house or we went to a nearby larger city and stayed the weekend in a hotel he would rent for us. I loved spending time with him. He was so nice to me and always said the perfect things. I found out he was 35 years old and I thought he was so mature and smart. He dressed in nothing but designer and he taught me how to spot designer, how to spot fake designer, how much certain designers and objects are worth, what age groups like what designer and why, and before him I had never even seen a Louis Vuitton designer object in real life. His whole truck backseat was full of LV boxes, I was so struck.

He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing.

After about a month of meeting him he decided we needed to have a serious conversation about “us’’. He told me that he really cared about me and saw my true potential. He told me that A wouldn’t let me come to his house because he was actually married and that I was his 2 year side relationship, that hurt. He told me that he can teach me all I need to know in life in order to provide for myself and not have to work 2-3 jobs just to afford living with a roommate. He told me that I could have all the designer he had and more, along with promising to get me the plastic surgery I dreamed of to get rid of the self conscious body issues I dealt with for years. He told me he was leaving town to go back home to Las Vegas. I was scared because I had never even been out of state before and here this man was making all these promises to me but only if I pack a bag, leave everything I’ve ever known, leave family and friends, and move 22 hours away with him.

I asked him how we would survive and what we would do for work. He told me that he was a pimp and I laughed at him. What?! Pimps are not real I said..thats in movies people don’t really do that. Oh baby, how wrong was I. I still thought he was joking.. he told me I wouldn’t be a hooker nor would I do anything I didn’t want to, he told me that he had a lot of older white men that he plays golf with and the they will pay me to go on vacation with them and to go to business parties..he told me that I could maybe work in a strip club if I liked to dance, or maybe go back to school to do what I really want to do in life, but most importantly I would be away from this small country town and A…the man who hurt me over and over by lying and cheating and then the silent treatment.

This man filled my head every single morning and night with how I was so much bigger and better than anything this small town had to offer me. If I stayed here I would end up old, fat, ugly, alone, and unhappy like I currently said I was.

I was 21. I was in a bad relationship. I was sleeping with a devil, a terrible terrible devil. He filled my head and my thoughts every second we weren’t together. I took the time to call A and ask him what our future plans were, he told me he had no future with me because he did not care about me enough to be serious. After 2 years of back and forth with a man that lived with me and that I fought to have my family accept, he told me he did not care about me and there was no future. I cried all night long.

When morning came I told my roommate I was calling into work and staying in bed. As soon as she left I packed 3 bags full of clothes and shoes and put them in my trunk. I took my dog to my parents house and asked them to watch him for a few days while I was staying with friends, gave my mom hug, and left.

He sent me an address and I told him I was 20 minutes away. On the way to meet him I had to pull off of the road to throw up two separate times. I finally gained my composure and made it to my destination. Once I pulled up into the driveway he came outside to meet me, with the biggest smile I had ever seen before. He took me inside with him and introduced me to his mother and father, his two daughters, a few cousins, one son, a few friends, and two his other girls. After being A’s secret for two years the feelings I had of just being introduced to his entire family and his two other girls was unimaginable. He introduced me as his and told them that I just gave up my whole life to be his forever. His words might sound cheesy but I loved hearing them. I could tell he was serious and meant every word. He showed me a bedroom and told me to take a nap because we would be leaving that night and driving all night long. He promised me I would never be away from him long, if I ever was. He told me I would never be alone. (I found out later he was serious) On all of our car trips he said he would always ride with me, on all the over night trips he would always sleep with me… I honestly was his prize and I loved how he made me feel so wanted and loved. He told me it would be better to cancel social media until I got my plastic surgery and my new house and car so people will see how good I am doing since I moved, so I disconnected all social media. Then he said it made more sense to give him my phone since he would be making my phone payment and I needed to rest and drive anyways, I gave it to him he promised to get me a new one when I needed it.

September 20, 2014, I fell asleep in his mothers bed with two women I had never met before waiting for him to wake us up so we could make a 21 hour drive to California. He promised me our first stop would be Hollywood then he promised to take me to the beach since I had never been.

[sending-the-message]

Jack O'Lantern Road by Sergeant_Darwin

In eastern Utah, trapped in the godforsaken emptiness between Salt Lake City and Denver, there is a stretch of highway known as “Jack O’Lantern Road.” It is 24 miles in length, and rarely used. It was more popular in decades past, but now it only provides folks with a very roundabout way to reach Arches National Park. Pretty much the only people who drive on it these days are hopelessly, hopelessly lost.

This is the story of the first and only time I drove this stretch of highway, a great many years ago. It is not a long story, but it’s a true one, and it’s taken me a long time to tell. I suppose you’ve come here to be frightened for a bit, to hear about the things that go bump in the night, and this story ought to do the trick. But when it’s over, and you’ve gone about your day, I hope you bear in mind—reality holds far more terror than any legend ever could.

I grew up about fifteen minutes north of where the road begins, in a small town called Coal Flats. The name was perfect—coal production was the only thing keeping us afloat, and the place, unlike much of Utah, was flat as a goddamn pancake. There weren’t many kids at my grade school, so everybody talked to everybody. This meant that when one kid had a story to tell, it wasn’t long before everyone had heard it.

I’m not sure who first brought the tale of Jack O’Lantern Road to my school, but I do remember who told it to me: Barbara Kingsolver, who last I heard was the widow of some wealthy old rancher up in Heber. Anyway, old Barb and I were nice friends back then, and I noticed one day that she seemed rather put out. During break time, I asked her what the matter was.

“Well,” she began, looking around a bit nervously, “I’m just worried about tonight.”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?”

Barb pointed at the calendar on the wall of the classroom. “October 29th. My family is driving on…driving on Jack O’Lantern Road tonight.”

She clearly expected this revelation to have some effect on me. Myself, I had never heard of such a road, and had no idea why October 29th was supposed to be such a bad time to drive on it. I’m sure my blank stare gave her all the permission she needed to jump into the story.

“Oh, you don’t know? I thought everyone knew. Well—”

She dove right into her tale. To hear her tell it, back in the 1930s, our very own grade school had held an event at an old barn near the side of the road in question. Nobody knew it as “Jack O’Lantern Road” in those days. Anyway, this barn, it was all decked out for Halloween festivities. The students were there on a Friday, October 29th, because the holiday happened to fall on a Sunday that year. Children ran around gleefully in their costumes, trading treats and playing games. As was often the case in those days, there weren’t enough grown-ups there to watch all the kids.

So nobody noticed when four of them wandered right up next to the road, dressed in homemade skeleton costumes and carrying orange jack o’lantern buckets to hold all their candy. Well, of course, these children were struck by a passing vehicle, and each one killed instantly.

Years later, I did my research, and found that the dreadful accident had indeed occurred. However, not many of the details of Barb’s story had been correct. The accident happened at the end of August, during back-to-school festivities. The driver claimed that the heat waves emanating from the road blurred his vision, and that he didn’t see the children until it was too late. According to at least one deputy, the man’s breath indicated there may have been another reason his vision was blurred.

I’ve still no idea how these details worked their way into this schoolyard legend. But, according to Barb, every October 29th, these four children return to that road, holding their orange jack o’lantern buckets, and seek for revenge on any poor souls who happen to be driving upon it.

It wasn’t true, of course, but I didn’t know that then. Barb’s story, and she told it very well indeed, chilled my neck hairs every time I passed the entrance to Jack O’Lantern Road, even long after my grade school days had passed.

There comes a time in a man’s life when he is inspired to put away his childish fears. I suppose this night was one of those times for me. I was 26 years old and visiting my folks up in Coal Flats. I left their place a little after midnight and planned to drive through the night to get back home to Phoenix, where I’d shacked up with a young lady I met in school, who later became my wife. She hadn’t come with me, though—my folks didn’t know about her quite yet.

It was near the beginning of this drive that I became aware I would soon pass the entrance to the terrible old road from my youth. God, I hadn’t thought of that in years. It wasn’t exactly on the way, but it wasn’t terribly far from it either. I suppose it was more nostalgia than anything that got me to make that fateful left turn.

The first thing I noticed was how bumpy the road was. The other pavements in the area had the occasional dip, it’s true, but this road in particular was no fun to drive on. It was clear it hadn’t been kept up—and why would it? Local legend or not, nobody drove here anymore. I winced as my Buick lurched along the road, sure the old girl would fall apart at any moment.

A brown signpost greeted me, bathed in my headlights: NEXT GAS 40 MILES. I’d just filled up a few minutes before at the old Main Street station in Coal Flats, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

There were no other signs on the road—just the occasional rusty mile marker.

I’m a bit ashamed to admit, I actually felt cool, conquering my childhood fears like that. It wasn’t even October 29th, but still. It was my first time on Jack O’Lantern Road, I had a beard now, and I wasn’t even scared. Yep, grade school me would’ve thought that was all pretty neat.

A shadow lurked in the distance. The old barn, I thought. Those hairs on my neck stood up again. It’s not that I was scared, exactly, it’s just that I knew what had gone down there, all those years ago. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a place where something horrible happened once, but lots of those places have a weird feeling about them. Call it superstitious if you will, that’s the only way I know how to say it.

I slowed down as I passed the barn, hoping to get a better look. It was on my right side. I craned my neck and saw it there, perched on its crumbling foundation, abandoned as a building ever was. I should’ve sped away right then and there. I pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. There had always been a sort of morbid curiosity about the place, and I wanted to get a closer look. I unlatched the door and took my first and last step onto Jack O’Lantern Road, gravel crunching underneath my foot.

I stood, with one foot in the car and one out, staring intently over the roof and toward the barn, only just illuminated by the brilliance of the Milky Way above. The crickets chirped loudly, and that was the only thing I could hear. I became a little nervous. I was completely alone.

Or so I thought.

Something caught my eye—a flicker, a little glimmer of light, from the left side of the barn. I blinked, thinking I had imagined it. I hadn’t. There it was, a faint orange glow. Two of them, in fact.

My mind went wild. Jack o’lanterns. Any pretense of being cool dropped at that moment. I practically leapt back in my car and slammed the door behind me. I closed my eyes and shivered. There was no way I’d seen what I thought I’d just seen. Was there?

As a matter of fact, I hadn’t. There were no jack o’lanterns on the road that night. Sure enough, when I peered back out through the passenger side window, they were gone. I chuckled to myself. Jesus, man. Be cool.

I figured it was just my mind playing tricks on me. It wasn’t. What I had actually seen, I later learned, were flashlight beams. I turned the car back on, shaking my head. As I began to pull forward, I flicked my headlights on. Then I slammed on the brake. Hard.

A group of men, perhaps five or six, were standing in front of me in the road, blocking my path. They were dressed in dark clothes, wearing hoods or ski masks. I could see their eyes reflected in my beams. A couple of them held bats, and the one in the back carried something that looked, at least in the shadows, like a ball-and-chain flail. They stood about fifty feet in front of me.

I heard a pop from far away, and something cracked into the side of my Buick. The gas tank display lit up on my dash. Had someone…shot at my car? I screamed like a woman, you better goddamn believe it.

I ducked down in case any more shots were fired and reversed hard. After a moment, I spun the car around in a quick three-point turn, and sped in the opposite direction—or at least, I tried to. Another group of men blocked my path, looking every bit as frightening, as menacing, as the first group. They walked slowly towards my car. In my rearview mirror I could see the other men walking towards me too. I looked out the window and saw two or three more approaching from the barn.

I began to hyperventilate. Was this it? I thought of my girlfriend, sound asleep hundreds of miles away. I was supposed to be on my way home to her. I began seriously to doubt I would make it anywhere near there. Looking back and forth between the groups of men, I thought wildly that I’d rather take my chances with a bunch of dead schoolkids.

Another shot rang out. It must have missed the car, but it was enough. I knew I had to move. I’d have to drive into them. But surely they’d planned for that? Surely they had a way to stop me? It seemed too easy, too obvious. And yet it also seemed like my only hope. I reversed again, getting dangerously close to the group behind me. A couple of them, I think, realized what I was up to and started running toward the car. One of them smashed their bat into the back driver’s side window when I sprung that Buick to life and aimed it at the men in front of me.

More gunshots. The back passenger window collapsed into a shattered heap of glass. My foot pressed so hard on the pedal I worried it might snap. A couple of the men got out of the way instantly, a couple more stayed for a time. But none of them seemed interested in being flattened by two tons of American-made steel, and by the time I’d reached them they were all on the side of the road. I could hear their voices jeering at me through the broken back windows as I sped past, flying down the lonely road from whence I’d just come.

My car broke down at the end of Jack O’Lantern Road. Gas had been pouring steadily from a bullet hole in the side, and I’d been doing more than a hundred the whole way back. I never drove the old girl again.

I hitched a ride from the first car I saw—people were more trusting in those days, go figure—and headed straight to the station. The sheriff called in some backup from bigger towns up north and they went to investigate. By the time they’d gotten there, all the men had cleared out. What remained was an enormous stockpile of the most horrific weapons imaginable, and a whole lot of bodies.

There was a woman from Littleton, Colorado who’d been reported missing just a few days before. In fact, several missing person cases were solved in that barn. They’d all been mutilated in strange and ritual ways. And I was almost one of them.

Life is short, I realized, so I ended up introducing my girlfriend to my folks a few weeks later. We’ve been married forty-six years now. We had a couple kids, and when they were young, I told them scary stories, just like the ones that were told to me. To be honest, I don’t see much harm in tales about monsters and ghosts. It’s good for the soul to be a bit frightened at times, I reckon, especially when it’s all just make-believe. But these days, the only stories that frighten me are the ones on the news, of people gone missing, young people with a whole lifetime ahead, cars left abandoned on the side of a road. I don’t need much imagination, see, to work out what happened to them.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe some of the legends are pretty bad. But it’s tough to know for sure, because real life…well, it can be ever so much worse.