The Beast

A man has the ride of his life on his way home late one night.

After securing the front doors of the store and arming the security system, Charles cursed under his breath as he pulled a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his back pocket. Working the night shift as a Floor Manager can really be a pain in the a*s, if you’re like Charles. He has no concern or compassion for his customers or employees. As long as the store sells what they want, it doesn’t matter how they’re treated. 
The rain was coming down in thick, icy sheets, the occasional flash of lightning in the Southern end of the sky. He lit his cigarette under the shelter of his chubby hand, and jammed his name badge into his pocket. He pulled his collar up to ward off the rain and started off toward the car, which was the only one in the dark lot. He fumbled for his keys, and after a momentary struggle managed to unlock the door of the rusty Cadillac and climb into the smoky seat. After stretching the seat belt across his wide girth, he jammed the pack of cigarettes into the console by the emergency brake. Wind howled through the parking lot, driving the rain horizontally across the windshield. He held his keys up into the amber light of the lamp outside, which looked like melting candle wax due to the rivulets of rain cascading down the windows. Once he finally found the right key, he reached over to turn the ignition and accidentally dropped them into the dark abyss of the floor.
“Goddammit,” he snarled as he struggled to unbuckle his seat belt to get the keys. He hit his head on the side of the steering wheel, causing him to curse loudly once again. As he was fumbling for his keys, a shadow flickered across the windshield and obscured the glow of the lamp. 
Thud. 

His car shook if something had hit it. He sat up and looked around, expecting to see some crazy bum pounding on the window. Nothing was visible in the curtain of dark rain that enveloped the rusted hulk of the car. It was still the sole inhabitant of the rain-soaked lot, so whatever it was would have to wait. Upon finding the keys, he sat up and let his stomach expand again. It wasn’t until he was putting the seat belt on for the second time that there was a dark outline silhouetted on the hood of his car. Maybe it was a beggar looking for a ride or some booze money. He turned the ignition and the rust bucket of a car roared to life. He flicked on his high beams and windshield wipers. His breathing became strained as he realized that the thing on the hood of his car was definitely not a beggar.
He was staring face to face with a creature that looked as if it was fresh out of the deepest pit of Hell. It was gray and very thin, like a person who had not eaten in months but was somehow clinging to a semblance of life. Its eyes were pools of pure darkness, like sockets that were devoid of all life but still somehow saw. Its ears were pointed and overly large for its thin head. But the most prominent features of its face were the long horns that protruded from each side of its forehead, which curled downward along its face like a ram. It finally registered in Charles’ mind that he needed to breathe. His eyes widened as the beast began to unfurl great wings. They resembled those of a bat, but with a pan of about nine feet and the hooked claws on the tips were much more sinister. 
The beast stayed in the crouched position, just staring at Charles through the thin layer of glass that separated them. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared back, unsure of what do. His breathing was strained and shallow, and his heart felt as if it were about to jump out of his throat. 
Maybe it will just go away, he thought. I’ll just sit here and not move for a while. That son of a b***h can’t sit out there forever…I hope. 
That was just what he did for what felt like an eternity, but actually being about five minutes. He made no movements, and the beast just cocked its head side to side a few times, and it almost appeared to be smiling. He could have sworn that it was tapping a clawed finger on the hood, but it could have been the sound of the pounding rain. 
The beast was the first to move when it put its face right in front of the glass. It let out a hiss, its breath clouding on the window. Spittle hung from its pointed teeth, and dribbled onto the glass before merging with the rain. By this time, Charles had begun breathing normally and his heart had nearly returned to its normal rhythm. His usual quirks were returning as well. He pulled another cigarette from the pack and reached out with the metal lighter toward the glass, the glow illuminating its hideous face and causing it to hiss once more. He lit the cigarette and leaned forward, as if to stare it down.
“I’m getting mighty tired of your little staring contest, you ugly son of a b***h. How ‘bout you get off my car and I can go home.”
He pointed a pudgy finger at its face, not eliciting any response. 
He smirked, and then laid his sweaty palm onto the horn. The monster shrieked and unfurled its great wings and leaped into the rain, the car’s suspension squeaking as it released the burden. Its shrieking died off into the distance, leaving Charles alone with the sounds of the pounding rain and distant thunder the only sounds. He began chuckling to himself as he wiped his eyes and considered how much he was going to drink when he got home. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the dark and empty streets. 
The back roads were completely deserted, due to the fact that it was two o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. The signs glowed like distant ghosts on the side of the road as he passed them. These roads were nothing but useless marshlands and thickets that were too inhabitable for commercialization or housing, so it was especially dark. The rain lessened; the ancient trees looming over the road catching the majority of it. Lightning was barely visible through the dense leaves, which were beginning to change and occasionally fall. The thought of the beast on his car still loomed in the back of his mind, and he tried to block it out. 
He usually liked going this way to help put his mind at ease after a long shift, but tonight he began to wish he had taken a more direct route. His eyes began to strain, the affects of the late hour beginning to kick in. He put on the radio, but couldn't find anything.

 So much for that idea, he thought. I can’t wait to just get home. 
He let his mind wander and drove on autopilot for the next few minutes, zoning out and driving without thinking about it. It wasn’t until something gray flew across the road in front of him that he began to realize that perhaps the thing on his car earlier had followed him home. Perhaps it had just perched itself onto the lamp above the car earlier. Perhaps it was a different one.
Perhaps, Charles thought, I should drive a little faster. 
He brought the car up to fifty, which was bad enough on roads like these, and the pouring raid multiplied that by ten. He didn’t care. He wasn’t about to be a victim to that….thing. 
The signs on the road now flew by at a more frantic pace. If there was a speed limit sign, he sure as hell didn’t see it. A thud on the top of the car jarred him back to reality. 
Oh God, not again…..
He looked frantically in all of his mirrors, but found nothing.
It’s on top of my car. Oh Jesus. It’s on top of my car!
His window was open just the slightest bit to dissipate the smoke from his cigarette. He reached over and began to roll it back up. In his peripheral vision, he noticed a large shape outside the window that wasn’t moving like the passing trees. Just as he made this realization, heard a deafening smash and felt a sharp, excruciating pain erupt from behind his eyes. He slumped over onto the passenger seat and tasted blood. He screamed when he looked up and saw a gray, bony hand pulling at his collar. He let out a gurgled moan as the clawed hand tightened around his chubby neck. 
It began to shake him wildly back and forth across the width of the car. He swerved back and forth; hitting another car would seem like a blessing at this point. He finally worked a couple of fingers under the clawed hand and had enough give to lower his head just far enough to clench the monster’s index finger between his teeth. He felt the hand shred and he stifled a gag as the bone crunched between his jaws. The creature let out a horrible shriek once more and pulled its hand backward. What should have tasted like blood was black, and tasted more like decaying meat. 
Almost home, Charles thought as he spit the wretched substance onto the floor.
He wiped the remnants of the revolting substance from the beast’s veins from his mouth with his rain-soaked sleeve. It was nowhere in sight. Maybe he taught it a lesson and it went back to wherever it came from. He unbuckled his seat belt and peered out the broken window. He wasn’t going to put much faith in his last assumption. 
Charles eased the pressure on the acceleration as he used his handkerchief to blot up the blood from the side of his face. The rain became thick again as the leaves’ shelter grew thin. That meant he would be no more than five minutes from the house. Three, if he kept driving like a lunatic with a death wish. 
Home, here I come. 
The windshield wipers continued to sweep back and forth, driving huge beads of water from the glass. He noticed that some of the liquid being pushed away was black. Not clear, like rain.
Dark like the blood from the beast’s hand. 
Charles gasped quickly as a wet, gray fist slammed down on the windshield from the roof. Large cracks spread across the glass like spiderwebs, completely obscuring his vision. He saw headlights in the distance, but could not tell which side of the road he was on. He jerked the car hard to the right to make sure he wasn’t going to slam into the other driver. 
The front wheel ran up an embankment and into a large root as he felt and heard the tire explode and a large scrap of rubber hit the window. The oncoming car hit its horn and by this time his own car was careening out of control all over the road. He slammed on the brakes but the rain caused the Cadillac to just barely miss ramming the other car as it passed and turned the corner. Charles and his big, mighty car were now rolling off the road and down a large hill. He screamed and flailed about inside the car, which was now sprouting flames from the depths of the engine. 
Once the hill flattened out, the back of the car slammed into an ancient Oak tree. Charles flew through the window and his crumpled body fell into a heap in a small pool of muddy water.
If he had survived, he would have realized that it was his Oak tree. His giant hill.
He had made it home after all.
The police arrived about ten minutes later upon hearing of a suspected drunk driver heading South.
The autopsy revealed that he had no alcohol or other substances in his system, so they believed he had simply fallen asleep and driven off the road.
The car had been so ruined and charred that nobody noticed the gray, withered finger on the passenger seat. 

Author's Note

Is this decent, as a whole? I wrote it a few years ago and would just appreciate any input!

Reviews

[ValyrieKiennan]

It is definitely decent. You have a way with words, however. You do tend to over describe. Description is essential in great works of fiction. That being said, description that is not integral to the telling of the story can get the reader a little lost on their way to whatever conclusion you have set in store for them. Case and point, your first paragraph. Lovely description. Sentence structure could use some work, but nothing major. The problem lies in the excessive descriptions before the action/story really picks up. When you look at short stories, think of them as tight, trim things. Not filled with excess, in whatever form. This should guide you in a better direction with both this piece, and future writing of yours!

Cheers

VK

[Jonny Burke]

Thank you, I will be doing some touching up!