The Hearse

"THE HEARSE" - Clifton Bush Jnr.

It was an ugly car, she thought. Long, black, and with death written all over it. Geri looked at it, and thought that it would be the perfect first car for her sister Lori. She was all of sixteen and into the Goth scene, and this would be the icing on the cake. She couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she handed her the keys to her new 'ride.'

She went and signed the papers for the car in the dealer's office, and walked out to her own car. The man told her that she had three days in which to pick up the car, otherwise he would rip up the contract and slap a for-sale sign back on the windshield. She told him not to worry, that she would be back later on that evening to pick it up with a friend.

She went home, showered, got changed, and went to pick up her friend Brianna. Together they would drive the car back to Brianna's house to 'hide' it until her sister's birthday tomorrow. She was getting excited; she couldn't wait to give it to her. She would just freak when she saw what she would be driving.

Once they arrived at the dealer's lot, she told Brianna to follow her, and she would give the car its first ride. It had been on the lot now for a couple of years; no one wanted the ugly thing, but she thought it would be perfect for Lori, with her tats and piercings and ultra-black spiked hair. This would be the present of a lifetime.

While they didn't get along all the time, they were more like friends than sisters. They would borrow each others' makeup, clothes, and sometimes would even trade boyfriends. But that was pretty rare, considering as how Lori was only sixteen. Their mother frowned on her dating at such a young age, but girls were girls, and they did pretty much what they wanted to. At least up to a point. When she told her mother that she was buying Lori a hearse for her birthday, she had a fit. It was bad enough, she argued, that when a person died, it would be the last ride they received. How ironic that she would buy her sister a hearse to drive around town in. She finally assented to it, but she still didn't like it.

There were rumors around that hearses had a curse on them, that if anyone drove one it would be to their own funeral. Geri just laughed at the rumormongers. She didn't care. She was going to buy that car for her sister no matter what people said. She didn't much listen to anyone that tried to give her advice.

At last the time came for the key presentation. They blindfolded Lori, and took her to Brianna's house. Once there, they stood her outside, and told her to open her hand. While she held her right hand out, Geri dropped the keys into it and told her to take off the blindfold. Lori did, and a squeal that could be heard for miles came out of her when she saw the long, black death machine. She screeched and howled and gave Geri hugs and kisses, and even gave Brianna a few too.

“Go try it out,” said Geri, giving her sister a hug. She watched Lori get in the car, almost being dwarfed by the massive door on the beast. She inserted the key and turned it over. The big motor turned over once, twice, and rumbled into life, its eight cylinders purring as if it had just come out of the shop.

Geri and Brianna hopped in the passenger side, and they all went for a ride. The car rode smooth, thanks to its heavy duty suspension.

“You know how many beers we can haul in this thing?” Brianna pointed out, noting the roomy interior. “Holy crap, guys, this is our new party vehicle!”

Lori just looked at her with disdain. “Uh-uh, Brianna, this is not your party vehicle, this is my new car, and I'm going to show it off to everyone!”

They headed out of town, and Geri told Lori to open it up some. There were no cops around, so she pressed harder on the gas. Soon they were cruising along at 90 miles an hour. Geri told her to back it off a bit before they got stopped. Lori let her foot off the gas, and the car just kept going, faster and faster. They were soon doing 100, then 110, 120, 130. She slammed on the brakes, but to no avail.

The hearse just kept speeding along, and soon they were coming up on some pretty sharp curves. The girls started screaming, but it was no use. The car kept going faster and faster, and soon one of the corners was just too much for the screeching rubber, and the big car leaped out at the trees, snapping off a telephone pole in the process. By the time the car stopped, it was nothing but a scrap heap. The girls had been tossed about like rag dolls, and had taken their one and only ride in a hearse.

Alive, that is...


Clifton lives in Michigan and has wanted to write stories all of his life. He is happily engaged to a wonderful woman and raising his 10 year old son. He enjoys writing, astronomy, NASCAR, football and the outdoors in general.

The Mummy

"THE MUMMY" - Clifton Bush Jnr.

The corridor was dark and dusty, with the flame of the

torch threatening to blow out at any minute. The air was hot and stuffy, and a slight breeze followed me down the tunnel. Soon I entered a slightly bigger room, looked around, and found another opening off to my right. I held my torch in front of me and headed in the direction of the new opening.

The torchlight flickered against the ancient walls, casting shadows and giving me pause to continue on my adventure. I kept looking down into the sand to make sure that I didn’t walk onto a cobra or other snake. So far so good, I thought. The corridor narrowed a little and I had to bend down to reach the exit.

I exited the corridor and came into a wondrous, huge room. The roof above was arched slightly and there were colorful hieroglyphics painted on the stones. From what I could gather by just glancing at them, I had entered the tomb of one of the Pharaoh’s advisors. Directly in front of me lay the sarcophagus of the advisor, long undisturbed by time or grave robbers.

I rubbed my hand on top of the sarcophagus and felt the years of accumulated dust and grit upon my hand. I wiped it off on my shirt and proceeded to try and find a way to open the coffin.

I had taken a small crowbar with me but wasn’t sure if it would be enough to pry open the coffin. Finding a small notch in between the cracks, I inserted the flat end of the bar and pulled down. To my amazement the cover moved slightly. A hiss of escaping air and dampish smell assailed my nostrils. After a few more minutes of prying and tugging the cover was open enough to where I could see inside the sarcophagus.

I reached down alongside the coffin to retrieve my torch, bent back up and shone the fire to light up the interior of the sarcophagus. Inside was a typical mummy, wrapped from hand to foot in bandages and covered in a thin layer of dust. The slight odor of mold assaulted my nose and I turned back quickly, catching my breath. My stomach heaved slightly and I walked back against the wall, a cold chill running up my spine.

I took a few deep breaths, and walked back to the sarcophagus. I had come this far, there was no turning back now. I shone the light back into the darkness and stared at the form lying below that used to be a living, breathing human being. In that moment I wondered just what I was doing here. I had always loved archaeology, especially the ancient Egyptian motif, but once I was here I began to have second thoughts. So I decided this night that I would break from the group and enter the tomb myself, to make sure that this is what I truly wanted to do. Seeing the 3000-plus year old mummy fortified my courage and I decided right then and there that this was my calling.

I walked around the sarcophagus towards the back wall, looking at the brightly painted pictures and marveling at the artwork. There were also several bas-relief carvings cut into the stone, giving the images a three dimensional look.

Boom, boom boom! I heard several loud noises above me, and instinctively looked up. It almost sounded like loud footsteps, but no one else knew that I was here. Then a cool breeze wafted down the corridor, enveloping me in a chilling grip. The flame on my torch almost went out, and I turned around and looked back at the sarcophagus.

It was the same as before, except there was a greenish mist rising out of the stone. My heart was pounding in my chest, and the air seemed to grow thick and heavy. As I watched, the mist grew into a thin tendril that disappeared into the back wall, leaving me speechless.

I figured that now was a good time to leave. I turned back towards the entrance corridor and started walking back the way I had come. A foul smell soon assailed my nostrils, and I stopped to gag, turning around to see if anything was following me. To my horror I spotted two red, blazing eyes in the darkness. My heart skipped a beat, and I continued on my way. The smell grew overpowering, and I had to stop to vomit. I looked behind me, and saw nothing. Wiping my mouth off, I spit once more in the sand and turned to continue my exit.

There in front of me stood a mummy, about five feet tall and with glowing red eyes. The smell of the creature was putrid, and my heart just leaped into my throat. I tried to scream when the creature grabbed my neck but soon all I saw was blackness…

BIO: Clifton lives in Michigan and has wanted to write stories all of his life. He is happily engaged to a wonderful woman and raising his 10 year old son. He enjoys writing, astronomy, NASCAR, football and the outdoors in general.

The Mirror

"THE MIRROR" - Clifton Bush Jnr.

It was an ugly mirror by today's standards. It was supported by heavy wooden claws for feet, and was oval in shape. It was a full body mirror and when Sherry looked into it she had to wipe away several layers of dust that had accrued over the years. The one thing that did intrigue her about it was the hand-carved design on top, that of a pharoah. It was unusual for a mirror to have that kind of a carving on it, but she decided that she wanted it anyway. She hollered down to her husband Mike to come up and take it down for her. As usual, he complained all the way up the stairs about it.

Mike hated these Saturday rummage sale trips. He was usually the one that had to haul stuff around, watching his wife blow good money on old junk that didn't mean anything to anyone but he usually kept his cool and didn't say anything. However, as heavy as this mirror was, he decided the time was right to give her an earful once he got it into the truck, and that's after he caught his breath. By God, that thing was heavy. And ugly, full of dust, in bad need of re-varnishing, and it needed to be re-silvered, too. All for the measly sum of $200. He almost lost it at that.

"Two hundred dollars for an old junk mirror? Are you insane?" he barked at her after they got into the cab. "Do you know what we could do with two hundred dollars?"

As usual, she just sat there and took it. She'd heard all his arguments before, but she felt something special with this particular piece. She didn't know why, but it had attracted her like a fly is attracted to honey.

"Yes, I know what we could've done with two hundred dollars, but something about this made me want it, bad," she tried to argue the point with her husband. He fretted and fumed all the way home.

"Yeah, but when I want something I get the third degree," he said. She just looked at him, and knew that today was going to be a bad day. She did know that she didn't want to spend it arguing with him, for they rarely had time together anymore, and she thought that these weekly rummage sale forays would bring them closer together. Maybe she was wrong.

They got home and Mike backed the truck up into the garage to unload the mirror. He had it covered with a blanket and he grunted and groaned all the way into the house. At least, he thought, she held the door for him this time.

"Just set it in the living room, and I'll find a spot for it," she called after him. He grunted in acknowledgement, and walked back to her, brushing the dust off his clothes. "Damn thing is heavy enough," he complained.

"Oh, hon, thank you," she said, trying to soothe his anger. He only grunted and went to the fridge to grab a beer. He popped the top, and took a long swallow. She went past him to examine her treasure.

She took off the blanket, and the first thing she did was get some paper towel and some windex to clean the silver off. After that, she grabbed a bucket with some warm water and soap and proceeded to clean the wooden part of the frame, especially the engraved pharoah's head. When she rubbed it, a strange feeling came over her, kind of like being in the desert, a hot wind blowing at her back. She was so engrossed in her cleaning that she didn't hear Mike telling her he was going next door to have a few drinks with Bernie, their neighbor.

She closed her eyes, and could almost imagine being in Ancient Egypt. She could feel the hot wind blowing, the smell of the oasis under her feet, and the swishing of palm fronds. She opened her eyes, and the Great Pyramids stood before her; she sucked in her breath in amazement.

The stark beauty of the desert struck her full force, like being hit with lightning. How did she get here? What had happened to her house? And why was she dressed in the full regalia of an Egyptian Queen? She looked around in amazement.

Her house had become a palace, with servants fanning her with palm fronds and offering her grapes, wine, and fruits. She looked at her hands; her fingernails had been painted with some kind of strange ink. She walked inside the palace, and saw golden statues everywhere, busts of Ra and other gods scattered about. She walked through the palace in a daze, unbelieving of the wealth she saw. It was unreal.

Suddenly, she heard her husband's voice calling out to her, as if very far away. "Sherry! Sherry! I need another beer!" came the disembodied voice. She closed her eyes again, and was soon surrounded by her own house, with the plain white paint and sparse pictures on the walls, and her annoying husband hollering at her. What had just happened to her?

She looked at the mirror and just smiled.....

BIO: Clifton lives in Michigan and has wanted to write stories all of his life. He is happily engaged to a wonderful woman and raising his 10 year old son. He enjoys writing, astronomy, NASCAR, football and the outdoors in general.

The Cemetery

"THE CEMETERY" - Clifton Bush Jnr.

The cemetery was a lonely place at night.

Even the birds that sang during the day avoided this place. There was an entity here, one that someone just couldn't put his finger on. It gave one that creepy feeling, making the hairs stand up on the back of one's neck, and the heart to pump just a little bit faster.

Corey didn't care. He had at least twelve beers in him and he was ten feet tall, invincible. He'd go in there and show those chickens. He even bet with Mark that he'd spend the night in the mausoleum that was off in the farthest corner of the old graveyard. He had fifty bucks riding on this, along with bragging rights, and a little thing like a ghost wasn't going to make him run away.

They dropped him off at the front gate and he soon clambered over the rusty wrought-iron fence. He turned around to face his friends, and something hit him in the forehead.

“What the hell...?” he said. He glanced at the package that had hit him, and bent down to retrieve his pack of smokes. He'd need them in here. A bag was thrust at him through the bars.

“For our unsung hero,” said Brooke, laughing. “A little more liquid courage to keep you up all night.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, grabbing the sack and putting his smokes in his pocket. “Now for all you non-believers, let the great one begin his mystical journey into the underworld!” He started laughing.

“Okay, pick me up in the morning. I'll be waiting right here!” he shouted to them, watching them leave. Soon he was alone among the headstones, and switched the flashlight on that Amber had handed to him.

He weaved his way between headstones and slowly made his way to the far corner of the cemetery. He soon found his target, the old mausoleum that stood like a silent sentinel watching over everything here. He reached the door and saw that Mark had indeed cut the chain locking the door. He pulled out what was left of it through the handles and opened the door. It gave off a high-pitched shriek on its rusted hinges and he was momentarily taken aback by the creepy noise.

He entered, and walked down the steps. One, two, three...six in all. Here was another door, a wooden one, and he gently pushed it. It opened noiselessly, unlike the one above. He walked in and set his package on the floor, noticing that there were two caskets in here. One was newer than the other and he could still read the nameplate. THOMAS WILLIAM SR. The other was a woman's name, obviously his wife's.

“So,” he said out loud, “I get to spend the night with the Williamses.” Corey reached into the bag and withdrew a can of beer. He popped the top and took a long swallow, burping as he gurgled the alcohol down. He then lit a smoke, and headed back up into the night air so he didn't choke himself out with the fumes. He looked around, and although it was June, the night air still had a chill in it so he pulled his jacket tighter around him. Sure its just the chill air - or are you scared?

He quickly pushed that thought aside. Corey had some real money riding on this bet, and he'd be damned if he was going to chicken out.

He finished smoking and flicked the butt over the fence before going back down into the crypt to finish off his beer, sitting on his behind up against the wall staring at the two coffins. It was going to be a long night, he thought, and reached for another can. He drank half of that one before the alcohol took effect and he passed out.

He woke up freezing. He looked around and saw nothing but headstones and mist, a chill foggy mist like in the horror movies. He pulled his jacket tighter, his breath coming out in a vapor. What's going on? He wasn't in the crypt anymore. 

He wandered around the graveyard, finally coming up to the gated entrance. He could hear his friends' voices, but couldn't see them. They were calling his name and laughing that he didn't stay the night.

"I'm right here!" he tried to scream, but nothing would come out of his mouth. "I'm here!"

He finally spotted them through a hole in the mist getting back in the car. He hollered for them, but they didn't seem to hear him. What was going on? They drove off, and he tried to jump over the fence but found that he couldn't. Something kept tugging at the back of his jacket when he tried to get over it. He got down, turned around and saw all the empty, cold faces staring at him. One of them looked him straight in the eye and said, “Welcome to our world!”

BIO: Clifton lives in Michigan and has wanted to write stories all of his life. He is happily engaged to a wonderful woman and raising his 10 year old son. He enjoys writing, astronomy, NASCAR, football and the outdoors in general.