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~
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.
And Tarran, with his broad shoulders and football player structure had always been rather protective of short, bookworm Kanen.
"You should stay the night in town with me," Tarran suggested as he placed his hands on Kanen's hips, pulling him toward him so their bodies were touching.
Spending the night with Tarran sounded like a good idea, but Kanen wanted to get back home to his little sister, who wasn't feeling well. She had complained about a sore throat and she did look a little pale. And if this light snowfall should turn into a blizzard, he wanted to be home with her just in case anything happened.
Allowing himself to linger against Tarran for a moment longer, Kanen shook his head, the light brown tresses dancing before his green eyes, and finally pushed away when he felt Tarran's hand slip under his clothing and against his back. Tarran had the amazing ability to slip his hands under any type of clothing, at any location and for any reason.
"It's only a light snow," he said as he batted away his roving hands. "Besides, I need to check up on Jackie. She isn't feeling well."
Tarran frowned lightly, which made it appear that he was actually pouting. It was hard to imagine a tall, red-head like Tarran actually pouting, but he was. Kanen rolled his eyes slightly, but smiled and kissed him on the lips briefly.
"I'll call you as soon as I get home," Kanen pacified.
"You better," Tarran immediately retorted, still looking worried.
Not that Kanen could really blame him for being worried. After that traumatic experience he had when he was a kid, being trapped in a blizzard with his dad that nearly killed them both; Tarran got nervous whenever it snowed.
Normally, Kanen would have relented and stayed with Tarran for the night. But the snow seemed to be light and he had checked the weather forecast before leaving for his class. And his sister was also home alone; their parents away for the night. He needed to go.
"I'll be careful," Kanen added for extra reassurance before he climbed in his car, Tarran still watching from the footpath.
Kanen then started his car and headed for home as snow continued to fall. He had driven this road so many times now that he knew it by heart. Soon, the lights of Arrington faded away, the only source of light were from his car headlights. Within half an hour he should be home. Maybe forty minutes being careful of the snow.
But within minutes the gently falling snow had turned into a full blown blizzard! It was a complete white out, Kanen could barely see out of his windscreen.
"Maybe I should turn back," Kanen muttered as he anxiously chewed on his bottom lip.
But as he glanced out the back window, he knew that it was too late. He couldn't even see the road in front of him. Snow blanketed the windshield and the wipers were struggling to keep up with demand.
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when a fearful realisation struck. He might not survive this trip home.
Suddenly, Kanen saw a pair of tail lights in the distance. The lights were dim, but they were red and he knew that there was another vehicle of some kind in front of him. And as he crept closer, he realised that he was behind a large truck. He couldn't tell the make or kind; he wasn't into cars. But he was so happy to see that it was leaving wheel tracks in the heavy snow.
"I don't know where you're going," Kanen said aloud as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "But I'm following you out of this storm."
He stayed behind that truck, his eyes fixed on the wheel ruts ahead and sticking as close as he dared to. He had no idea of the speed he was traveling; he dared not take his eyes off the road and truck in front of him. Staying focused was the key to getting out of this situation in one piece.
After what felt like an eternity lights shone through the snow. He was in Easton. He was in his home town. He had never, ever felt such relief in his life.
But Kanen knew he wasn't completely out of the woods yet. He still needed to get home.
Miraculously, the truck in front of him continued until he passed his front gate of his home and then…it stopped. It stopped ten metres away, the engine idling, the tail lights as bright as ever. And it stayed there as Kanen pulled up to the gate, seemingly waiting.
As Kanen put his car into park, he sat back in his seat, his eyes still focused on the truck. He was convinced that the truck and the driver had just saved his life.
Opening the door of his car, Kanen stumbled out into the blizzard to open the front gate of his parents' property. He then turned around to look back at the truck that was still idling nearby. Not knowing what to do, Kanen waved his arm in the air, hoping that perhaps the driver could see him. He wanted to thank him, thank him for leading him out of that blizzard and to safety.
Suddenly, the blowing winds died down enough for Kanen to get a good look at the truck. It was rather old fashioned, nothing like the usual trucks you see on the roads these days. Then he noticed a figure leaning out the window; a man, about 40 years in age and rather portly with thinning hair. The man lifted his arm as if motioning that Kanen was welcomed, smiled and then leaned back into his truck. The truck roared back into life and then…
It just…vanished. Like that. In a blink of an eye. It was gone.
Kanen squinted his eyes, unsure if he was seeing an illusion from the winds that had picked up again. But, as he continued to look, he slowly began to realise that the truck was gone. All that was left was tire tracks.
He didn't know why he did it, but he ran out into the snowy streets where the tire tracks in the snow abruptly ended. There was nothing there, nothing but ice and snow. And he just stood there for a minute. Stood and stared.
B-but there was a truck here…It was right here! It couldn't have just vanished, right?
The Ghost Truck.
A shiver race down Kanen's spine, and it wasn't from the gale force wind. No, it was something else. Something spiritual. Something ghostly.
With his eyes as wide as dinner plates, Kanen stumbled his way back to his car and jumped in, his hands shaking, his heart beating loudly in his chest. But, surprisingly enough, he didn't feel scared. He was too shocked by what happened to feel any fear.
Acting automatically, Kanen put his car into gear and drove down the driveway, pulling his car into the carport, out of the blowing wind. He then found himself inside his home, standing in the entrance way, just gazing into the silence of the house.
He could still see those tail lights.
The ringing of the home phone caused Kanen to snap out his trance somewhat. He moved on autopilot as he kicked off his snow-covered boots and raced for the phone. But as he picked it up and placed it against his ear, he found that he couldn't speak.
"Hello? Kanen? Jackie?"
It was Tarran and he sounded worried. He had probably been ringing this phone for a while now without answer. Jackie must be asleep; she could always sleep through the phone ringing.
Kanen found himself mumbling after that. He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying; the words just came out as he gripped the phone tightly.
"Seriously, Kanen, you're not making any sense!" The worry in Tarran's voice was obvious. "What happened? Are you alright? What about a truck?"
Kanen didn't know what to say. A truck he had followed out of a blizzard just disappeared before his eyes. How do you explain that? How do you tell someone that?
Slowly, however, a smile slipped across his lips, calming down significantly the more he thought about it. The legend was true. The story of the ghostly truck was real. The driver on that fateful night 50 years ago was unable to save his own life, but was now saving others. And he saved Kanen's life, he was sure.
Kanen snapped out of his thoughts, suddenly feeling excited and energetic, and he gripped the phone with both hands.
"Hey, do you believe in the story of the ghost truck?"