Ghost Truck
Summary: Do you believe in the story of the ghostly truck? To Kanen, it was a simple but interesting story. Until one snowy night…
Warnings: A light mention of Yaoi/Boyslove
Claimer: All characters belong to me and cannot be used without my permission. You’re welcome to use them, but please ask first.
AN: This story was actually inspired by a short story in a magazine that I kept. I had it for a while, but only just found it. And, well, the need to write this story struck at a rather inconvenient time, I must be honest.
Well, down here in Oz, it’s Halloween. So, here’s a ghost story for you. Not very scary or anything, just a ghost story.
Anywho, please enjoy~
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While most people his age would forever baulk at the idea of living in a small country town called Easton with a population of barely 500. One where they had to travel 34 kilometres to the nearest shopping centre to buy things other than the essentials that was found in a small corner store.
But for 18-year-old Kanen, he enjoyed the peace and the freedom of his town. The roads were long and quiet and he could just spend hours driving around without a care in the world. Even though he wasn’t a stone throw away from the basic amenities like fast food places or movie theatres, it didn’t mean he lost out on anything. He liked the drive from his place to Arrington where his boyfriend lived and where he went to the community college.
But what Kanen liked best about Easton was the stories and legends that had survived over time.
For as long as Kanen could remember he had heard stories about a ghostly truck that continuously drove the long, winding roads near his home. Apparently, a truck driver was killed during a horrendous blizzard about 50 years ago. His body wasn’t found for three weeks, when the ice started to melt and his frozen body was found, slumped over the steering wheel. A tragic story, really.
There were many different versions of the legend regarding this truck driver. Some say that when headlights suddenly appear in your review mirror, it was a warning that you were about to be involved in an accident and that there was nothing you can do about it.
Another was that if you had broken down on the side of the road late at night, an old fashion truck would pull over and give you a lift into town, where you are dropped off safely. But as you turn to thank him for his kindness, the truck would disappear.
There had been plenty of stories, but usually from the second eye-witness. Meaning, they heard the story from a friend of a friend.
Kanen didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know if the stories were true or not. It really didn’t matter to him, to be perfectly honest. He just liked listening to ghost stories. The old fashion ghost stories told around camp fires. He can’t stand the ‘horror’ stories of today’s standards. They weren’t scary; they were gory and bloody.
What he liked was a good ol’ ghost story that scared the life of you but was relatively harmless. You know, the ones that made you question your sanity and whether or not that really happened. Those stories he loved.
Kanen, however, didn’t realise that he was going to have his own encounter with this ghost truck.
It was dark and snowing lightly when Kanen emerged from the warm confines of the classroom of his evening class at Arrington’s community college. He had just finished a course on digital photo editing with his boyfriend of two years by his side. As they bid their farewells to their fellow classmates, Tarran walked Kanen over to his car. He always did that, especially during the evening classes as there had been stories of young thugs mugging people as they came out of classes for money or other goods.
