Read Online A Penny Down the Well: A Short Story Collection of Horrifying Events by J. A. Crook - Free Book Online
Authors: J. A. Crook
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the windshield, but with a look so distant and
a mind so invested in the recollection of his tale, it was obvious
the man didn’t see the green grass and chiseled stones of the
cemetery; he saw the event he was explaining in vivid detail. “We
never knew when the Germans were going to hit us. All we knew was
that we were on a suicide mission, making a stance against
warnings, just sailing through the sea toward England.”
Clint looked back toward
the casket for a moment, hoping that his glance might help the
fellow understand that he was in the vehicle with the actual person
this procession was for. But, as Clint’s eyes returned to the elder
military man, the man’s eyes simply stared forward and he just
continued to speak.
“ I shouldn’t have lived
that day. There were four ships. All of us were together and all of
us should have gone down together. They didn’t take us, though. Not
sure why it was us. I wonder sometimes if they ran out of
torpedoes.” And finally the icy gaze of the man fell directly on
Clint, almost causing his heart to stop.
Clint looked into the eyes
of the military man. They were bright blue, like Larry’s in that
they were almost white. This man’s seemed different, though. They
were that color from age or disease. Clint wondered if the man was
senile, lost or even partially blind. He hoped that the man looking
his way would perhaps make it clear to him that he was in the wrong
place. As the military man continued to talk, however, Clint
started to recognize that it was quite possible the man was exactly
where he cared to be.
“ You know what I think
really happened? I think they wanted us alive, kid. They wanted us
to hear the torment and the screams of our friends and brothers.
They wanted us to continue sailing to England with broken hearts
and shattered minds. They wanted us to be a disease to the morale
of our companies. They wanted us to be afraid, boy.” Unblinking,
the old man told the tale to Clint, whose mouth still hung open and
in awe.
Clint had no idea why the
man was telling him this story. Clint signed a contract agreeing to
simply transport a body from one place to another. He didn’t sign
up to hear grim stories of war or deal directly with the family
members of the deceased. In fact, Clint’s greatest concern was that
he would have to be a liaison between the dead person in the casket
and the living. This event only triggered all of those concerns,
and the harrowing theme of the tale only added a different
dimension of terror.
“ They all scrambled
through the water, waving whatever limbs were still connected to
them while trying to stay afloat. Like a fish without a fin, boy.
You know what that’s like?” The military man neared closer to Clint
and Clint instinctively slunk back toward his driver’s side window,
considering, despite the deliberations at the attendant’s stand,
jumping right out of the hearse and getting on his way. “The water
wasn’t even blue. All around us it was red. Red with blood. If I’d
ever seen hell on earth, it was in that moment. It was in that
moment.” And finally the man backed and looked away.
Clint’s chest heaved as he
searched for a breath. It was as if the heaviness of the man’s
story sucked the oxygen right out of the sky, leaving Clint
desperate for air. Then, without warning, the man opened the door
to the hearse and stepped out, closing it behind him with a
conclusive slam. Clint could only stare to the space where the old
military man was, chest heaving as oxygen suddenly started to fill
his lungs. Sweat beaded at his head and he slowly sat up, looking
into his passenger side mirror to see if he could observe where the
man was headed, but by then, he was already gone.
In his peripheral, Clint
saw the parking lights of the lead car in front of him turn off and
he quickly composed himself before following it as the car began to
move into the cemetery. Clint did all he could and talked it out.
Instead of
a mind so invested in the recollection of his tale, it was obvious
the man didn’t see the green grass and chiseled stones of the
cemetery; he saw the event he was explaining in vivid detail. “We
never knew when the Germans were going to hit us. All we knew was
that we were on a suicide mission, making a stance against
warnings, just sailing through the sea toward England.”
Clint looked back toward
the casket for a moment, hoping that his glance might help the
fellow understand that he was in the vehicle with the actual person
this procession was for. But, as Clint’s eyes returned to the elder
military man, the man’s eyes simply stared forward and he just
continued to speak.
“ I shouldn’t have lived
that day. There were four ships. All of us were together and all of
us should have gone down together. They didn’t take us, though. Not
sure why it was us. I wonder sometimes if they ran out of
torpedoes.” And finally the icy gaze of the man fell directly on
Clint, almost causing his heart to stop.
Clint looked into the eyes
of the military man. They were bright blue, like Larry’s in that
they were almost white. This man’s seemed different, though. They
were that color from age or disease. Clint wondered if the man was
senile, lost or even partially blind. He hoped that the man looking
his way would perhaps make it clear to him that he was in the wrong
place. As the military man continued to talk, however, Clint
started to recognize that it was quite possible the man was exactly
where he cared to be.
“ You know what I think
really happened? I think they wanted us alive, kid. They wanted us
to hear the torment and the screams of our friends and brothers.
They wanted us to continue sailing to England with broken hearts
and shattered minds. They wanted us to be a disease to the morale
of our companies. They wanted us to be afraid, boy.” Unblinking,
the old man told the tale to Clint, whose mouth still hung open and
in awe.
Clint had no idea why the
man was telling him this story. Clint signed a contract agreeing to
simply transport a body from one place to another. He didn’t sign
up to hear grim stories of war or deal directly with the family
members of the deceased. In fact, Clint’s greatest concern was that
he would have to be a liaison between the dead person in the casket
and the living. This event only triggered all of those concerns,
and the harrowing theme of the tale only added a different
dimension of terror.
“ They all scrambled
through the water, waving whatever limbs were still connected to
them while trying to stay afloat. Like a fish without a fin, boy.
You know what that’s like?” The military man neared closer to Clint
and Clint instinctively slunk back toward his driver’s side window,
considering, despite the deliberations at the attendant’s stand,
jumping right out of the hearse and getting on his way. “The water
wasn’t even blue. All around us it was red. Red with blood. If I’d
ever seen hell on earth, it was in that moment. It was in that
moment.” And finally the man backed and looked away.
Clint’s chest heaved as he
searched for a breath. It was as if the heaviness of the man’s
story sucked the oxygen right out of the sky, leaving Clint
desperate for air. Then, without warning, the man opened the door
to the hearse and stepped out, closing it behind him with a
conclusive slam. Clint could only stare to the space where the old
military man was, chest heaving as oxygen suddenly started to fill
his lungs. Sweat beaded at his head and he slowly sat up, looking
into his passenger side mirror to see if he could observe where the
man was headed, but by then, he was already gone.
In his peripheral, Clint
saw the parking lights of the lead car in front of him turn off and
he quickly composed himself before following it as the car began to
move into the cemetery. Clint did all he could and talked it out.
Instead of
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