The engine of the 1957 Chevy purred as it sped through the hills and curves of Alabama Highway 216.  Jim had just left Susie Miller’s house in East Brookwood and the memory of their date consumed his mind.  The scent of her musty perfume still filled his car and the aroma overwhelmed his senses.  

 

    Jim turned right, as he left her drive without considering the dangerous road.  The fact that it was close to midnight didn’t register in his mind.  He didn’t even consider the folklore, or the fact that his car needed gas.

 

    It was a Friday night.  The high and lows of the road was like the rails of a roller coaster.  He smiled as the rolling hills sent his car up and down, then left to right.  It was late and he was trying to make up time.  Soon, he would have to slow to 40 miles per hour. 

 

    Highway 216 was an Old Wagon Trail covered in asphalt, in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. There were steep hills and deep valleys in this stretch of road.  There was one area that was very treacherous.  It was called, “Dead Man's Curve.

 

    Jim looked up at the midnight sky.  An uneasiness built inside him, which had nothing to do with the road.  It was Crisstown.  The small village was a mystical place and no one questioned the stories which it spawned.  The thick patch of forest ahead signal it’s start. 

 

    He watched the speedometer drop when he released his foot from the accelerator.   The car slowed and a feeling of foreboding came up on him like he had never felt.  He looked at the bright night sky and then to the path ahead.  It looked more like an abyss, than a forest. 

 

    His mind was sounding an alarm even before the engine sputter.  Jim’s heart quickly sank into his stomach. He knew that sound meant his engine had sucked in air.  The fuel gauge confirmed it.  It was below empty. 

 

   “Damnit, dammit.”  Jim considered every alternative.  

 

   “Susie's house is eight miles back and the nearest gas station in that direction is 10 and it is closed!”  He slammed his fist into the dash. 

 

    “Damn it, I'm so stupid.”  He knew there was a truck stop that stayed open 24 hours and it was five miles ahead.  Jim also knew he didn't have enough fuel to make it, but it would be an easy walk to get some. 

 

    The decision was made with a push of the accelerator and he never looked back.  The border of the arcane land came up on his right and he entered Crisstown with a feeling of dread.

  He didn't slow as he past the dark dirt road and would not turn his head to look within its borders.  If he had, maybe the vision of a legion of captured souls would have made him turn around. 

  

    “No way in HELL, I’m running out of gas here!”

 

    He felt chills form on his arm and down his back as he started on the dark patch of highway.   The feeling came over him.  One of being watched, no, it was a feeling of being hunted. 

 

    “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”  His hands were slamming the steering wheel, because he knew that he would not make it.

 

    “God, please let me get through Crisstown before I run out.  Please!”

 

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, but it fell on deaf ears.  As soon as he finished, the engine began to stall.  Slowly, the transmission pulled the car to a halt.  Jim pushed in on the clutch, which allowed the car to glide over the hills.  The engine was now dead. 

 

    It made it with ease over the first, and around two curves.  Movement in the rearview mirror caught his attention.  In the darkness, sat a man.  At first, Jim did not want to turn around.  His heart raced, but he didn’t dare to breath.  He focused his eyes on the road and slowly glanced at the mirror.  The man had disappeared.  He turned quickly and looked around.  He held the steering wheel as he searched the back seat.  There were no signs of anyone.  Jim finally breathed.

 

    “I have to get out of here.  My mind is playing tricks on me.”

 

    The car began to slow over the next hill, but picked up speed as it dropped off the other side.  It started up the next incline and was slowing.  Jim heard another noise in the back seat, but didn’t dare turn around.  Instead, he closed his eyes and rocked his body, as he struggled for the car to gain momentum.  For a moment, there was a chance for the heavy car to make it.  Fifty more feet and it would top “Dead Man’s Curve”, where so many had died.  Forty feet, the car seemed to be pulled backwards.

 

    “Why dammit?”  He screamed.

 

    The car moved very slowly, but it was going to make it.  Jim opened the door and jumped on the payment.  He pushed with all his strength and the car picked up speed.  Suddenly, it stopped as if it had hit something.  Jim’s face crashed into the door and he fell to his knees.  He panicked as the car started to roll backwards.  He struggled to pull his legs free and get into the seat.  Something was pushing the car back down the hill.  He allowed it to roll onto the grass and then set the brakes.  He was careful not to get too close to the fifty-foot cliff which was close to the road’s edge.  He closed the car’s windows and took the keys.  He smashed the steering wheel one last time.  Jim placed his head on the leather and closed his eyes.  He felt utter dread deep within him.

 

    “Fuck, I can’t believe this.”  

   

    With trepidation, he stepped out of the car and on to the grass.  He started up the road in complete darkness.  The light of the moon could not penetrate the dense forest.  It cast just enough light for the shadows to touch him.  They became an imprint of the dark horizon, as he tried desperately to see.  He slammed the car door, but there was no echo.  Every noise was clear and distinct.  There were none of the usual sounds, no crickets or tree frogs, only silence. 

   

    The night was warm with no breeze, but Jim didn’t notice.  Chills ran the length of his body.  The patch of frigid cold air that came upon him didn’t help.  Jim stopped, he knew he was not alone.  He turned a full circle, but saw no one.  Four more steps, each one measured.  A branch cracked.  Whatever the horror was, it was right above him. 

 

    He wanted to look up and confront his fear, but he could not muster the courage to raise his head.  A penetrating scream left him no choice.  He fell backwards on to the pavement, flinging his arms.  His bladder partially emptied as the huge winged creature sprang on him.  Its face was that of a female with the body of an owl.  Their eyes met and he swore that he saw hell’s gate in her reflection.

 

    Talons ripped across his face sending a searing pain through his mind.  The feathers beat against his ears and as the creature attacked him, pressing Jim’s body to the ground.  It’s face pressed against Jim’s and the long-crooked nose of a women was against his.  It’s yellow stained jagged teeth bit off pieces of his flesh as he screamed in agony.

  

   The creature finished its assault and flew away.  It’s jet black hair flapped in the wind behind it.  Jim was still in shock and could not quit screaming.  He watched as it flew into the darkness, still lying on the pavement. 

 

    “This can’t be happening.  God, please save me.”

 

   He looked around.  The darkness was still upon him.  Blood dripped from his gashes.  Jim rose to his feet, but something was different.  His breath was visible in the summer heat, the air had been displaced and a fog was slowly moving in.  His heart pounding from within his body was a signal to his brain.  Something was moving toward him, and it was pure evil. 

 

    He rubbed his arms to shake the chill from his body.  Something in the forest rustled the leaves and he increased his stride.   Determined to get out, he started to run.  Jim could feel eyes upon him.  The feeling of being hunted now returned.  He looked around, but saw nothing. 

 

   “Who is it?  Who’s there?”  He screamed.

 

   Tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood and falling to the ground. His eyes were now freakishly wide with fear and his face was white.

 

   “Who is there?”  He screamed again.   The curve was now directly in front of him

 

   “Have to get passed it.  If I get passed it, I’m good.  Got to get out of Crisstown.”

 

   His feet began to move faster, as he sprinted up the highway.  As a child, he heard endless stories of how Crisstown doesn’t give up it’s dead.  They will reach out and take a stranger.  Never, be caught at in Crisstown at night. 

 

    A large crash came from within the trees and he stopped, expecting something to spring from the forest.  He took two steps and it took two steps.  It mirrored him.  Jim moved another short step and it did the same.

 

    “Cat and Mouse.”  He knew this game.  It never came out good for the mouse.  The beating of his heart sounded in his ears.  The sound of blood rushing through his body distorted his hearing.  He turned and in a sprint, ran for his life.

 

    “I have to make it.  I have to!”  He thought of Susie and the love they shared.  The scent of her body was still on him. 

 

    “What will she think.  How would she react if, if, IF I DIE?

 

    “HELP ME, Somebody PLEASE!”  He started crying as he ran.  Tears came off his cheeks and ran down his neck.

 

    A voice sounded from within.  “Real men don’t cry.”  Jim was frantic.  It was a voice he had never heard.  It sounded different, dark and scary. 

 

    “Real men don’t piss their pants either, but he did!”  A sinister laughter followed.  He had to get away. 

 

    He felt fingers reaching out touching him from the darkness.  Pulling down on him.  Jim tried to break free, but couldn’t.  He was flailing his arms fighting an invisible enemy. 

 

    His feet suddenly stopped moving and he struggled to catch his balance.  In the distance, his mind detected something.  It was in the shadows on the road. His heart stopped beating, the night was loud with silence. 

 

    Keith Smith was in his truck on Hwy 216 when he passed Jim’s chevy.  He had just left work at the mines.  He knew who the car belonged to.  He looked at the chills on his arm.

 

    “Son of a Bitch.  What a place to break down!”  He slowed, knowing that Jim would be walking ahead on the curves.

 

    “Jim is going to be happy as hell to see me.”  Keith said with a chuckle.

 

    Jim backed up, watching the figure at the bottom of the hill.  He was at the very top of “Dead Man’s Curve.”  The fifty-foot cliff opened behind him, to the valley below.  The moon illuminated the road.  What he saw took his breath.  Ghost were his greatest fear and this one moved straight toward him.  They touched a place inside him which turned men into cowards. 

 

    A legend of a woman searching for her lost lover terrified him as a child.  They were thrown from a car as it tumbled down the ravine.  It was said that “She would torcher a man’s soul, if they stood in her way.”

 

    “Billy”, the woman called out to Jim.  Her voice was soft as a whisper and rang with the sadness of young heartache.    

 

    “Is that you?”  She whispered.  The moon illuminated her white dress and her hair blew back exposing her neckline of milky white skin.

 

    She seemed to float as Jim stepped backwards onto the grass at the top of the cliff.  He turned and looked down, knowing that his only escape was to jump.  The ghost was close to him now.

 

    “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real!”  The mist was now around him and she stood ten feet away, sadly looking at him. 

 

    “Oh GOD, please help me.”  The sound of his heart sounded in his mind.

 

    “Billy, come to me.”  She said lightly, “I have looked for you so long.”

 

    He looked at her and felt her pain, but didn’t know what to say.  She quickly came up to him, face to face.  For a moment, his heart melted. The sad look of her puffy eyes crying for her lost love touched him.  Tears still ran down her face as she wept for her lost love.

 

    Jim reached out to console her.  His fingertips penetrated her mystical presence.  She glared down at their hands, her eyes widened and turned black.  The skin on her faced shriveled and became withered before him.  Her breath was stagnant with the smell of death.  She came up to him and screamed just inches from his face.

 

    “Who are you…?”  The scream touched his soul and piss ran down his leg.  He released a blood curdling scream.  The two entities stood face to face, their mouths opened wide.  Jim’s hair stood on its end and her hair was now frizzy and rustled.   She turned away and now moved with intensity to the highway. 

 

    Keith Smith had just started into the curve, when the lights fell upon the apparition. He couldn’t believe his eyes.  The woman was standing in the middle of the road.  Without thinking of the consequences, he jerked the steering wheel of the old truck.  The vehicle ran through her and the apparition passed through the cab.  He slammed on the brakes and the sound of the squealing tires echoed on the hillside.  Fifteen feet was not enough distance to stop.

 

 

    Jim heard the old pickup.  For a moment, he thought he may be saved.  When the lights turned toward him, he knew that it was his last moment in this realm.  He had nowhere to go.

 

    The front of the truck hit him, launching his body high into the air, then fifty feet below it slammed on the rocks.  The memory of Jim’s horrified face was engrained in Keith’s mind, but it was only temporary.  The jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff took away Keith’s pain as they impaled his body.  The gas tank of the truck exploded leaving nothing but ashes.

 

    Crisstown had taken more lives and now, there were two more crosses on “Dead Man’s Curve.”

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