Dear Satan

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Do you believe in ghosts?

Submitted: September 12, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 12, 2012




Written by V. Rainsford



Lobo, Texas


It was late, and I was tired. The sky was growing dark and murky, and my body grew weary. It seemed like I had been on the road for years, when I had really been driving for about eight and a half hours. I subconsciously knew that I was making a very dumb move by running away from my domestic life and all the problems that came with it, but I just had to get the hell away from my wife and those….goddamn kids. The only good that came from being around them was the justified excuse of drinking loads of beer, and acting out violently. The thought of me telling those sum bitches off, then leaving them there to cry rivers was wrongly satisfying. I was proud of my sin, and I wore it like a shiny, golden championship belt.


The argument that preceded my escape wasn't by any means pretty. My wife and I had been on separate pages for months now, and just hours ago, it had reached its peak. We'd thrown things at each other, we'd scream at the tops of our lungs, we even came to blows a time or two. Things at home rarely worked out the way they were meant to, and I had just about had enough. I got drunk. I cursed at my kids, and threatened my wife. I believe those actions were strictly because of the beer, but it doesn't matter. I was gone, out of their lives, and I didn't intend on going back.


Now, I was stuck traveling down the longest road I'd ever encountered. I was a Texas native, but never in my forty-three years of life had I ever traveled over to Lobo. I'd heard stories about this area. These weren't average stories about an average town either; they were some of the worst, and rarest ghost stories you'll ever hear. And the fact that the sun was setting quickly didn't help anything. The only buildings whizzing past my windows looked abandoned. This whole goddamn town looked like it hadn't had any visitors since the Revolution.


I prayed forever that something would soon pop up somewhere. And after about five more miles of aimless driving, the good Lord answered my prayers. I pulled to a stop at some "local" filling station. Looking around, I only noticed three older men wearing torn up straw cowboy hats standing around doing what seemed like a lot of nothing at all. Before summing up the courage to get out of the pickup and asking for help, I took a deep breath and slid my hand drowsily through my short, black hair. I then covered my head inside my hands. Maybe I shouldn't have left home after all, I thought. Maybe I was wrong to disrespect my own family the way I did. Regardless of what I thought or hoped, it was too late to drive back, and I knew that if I didn't find somewhere to sleep real soon, I'd have to pull behind some building and spend the night sleeping inside this rusty old pickup.


I usually didn't want, or need to ask strangers for anything, but like I said before, I'd never been to Lobo. I rubbed the bristle that covered my chin in thought, but ultimately decided to just get it over with. When I reached over to undo the driver's side door, I jumped in surprise, and shock. One of the three older men was standing at my window, staring in at me with the blackest, shiniest eyes ever. He had a small cigarette between his thin, dry lips, and the expression on his weathered face was unreadable, although it was obvious he wasn't particularly happy.


I mindlessly rolled down the driver's side window and gulped before I asked him, "Can I help you, sir?"


I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the two other gentlemen started to slowly walk over to join the one standing at my window.


"Can I help you?" the man responded. His voice was deep and rough. It had a thick Texan accent to it. He continued to speak, "'Cause it seem ta me that you the one that need help. Say, boy, can I help you?"


The other men standing behind him had their arms crossed, as if they were waiting for me to say, or do the wrong thing.


I managed to bring a sly smile to my lips. I told him, "Yes, sir. You sure can help me. I'm gonna need you to point me towards the nearest hotel."


The man took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it to the ground. He chuckled slightly before saying, "This look like a vacation spot boy? Ain't no hotels. Ain't hardly nothin'. You can stay right here with us where it's safe, at the Maston residence."


I wasn't sure if the man was sane or not, but I didn't know what he was talking about. "I’m sorry, what now? The Maston residence, where the hell is that?"


The old man pointed towards the filling station.


I rubbed my forehead in frustration. I took a deep breath and said, "Look, I've had a long day. Trying to escape my troubles. I'm not staying at some abandoned filling station with you and your pals."


Suddenly all three men looked down at me, staring burning holes. The one I'd been talking with spoke up again. He said, "My name is Ralph Maston. Behind me to the left is my oldest brother, Kenneth. To the right is good ol' Jacob. We are the Maston brothers, and that there fillin' station is the only safe part of Lobo as far as we know.”


Shaking my head, I asked, “And what do you know?”


“Been livin' in there for fifty-two years, boy."


Having heard enough of the nonsense, I started the engine of the pickup. I then noticed one of Ralph's brothers, Jacob, pulling out a Ruger Vaquero single-action .357 Magnum revolver. He aimed the pistol, and fired at each of my tires, blowing out every single one. Enraged, I stormed out of my truck and charged at the man, who immediately sidestepped me, causing me to stumble forward. I stood up and turned towards the three men.


"What the hell was that?! You just blew out my goddamn tires, you stupid redneck!"


"Calm down," Ralph said sedately. "Jacob may have saved yer life."


I began to raise my voice a bit more. "Save me from wha-"


Ralph suddenly grabbed my shirt collar with one hand and pulled me close to his face. I could see years of anguish in his cold eyes. His face had millions of wrinkles upon its surface. His scraggly beard was unkempt, and he smelled strongly of smoke gunpowder.


"This is Lobo, Texas, you stupid sum bitch. This ain't Austin, ain't Victoria, ain't San Antonio, ain't home. Barely even charted. This land here ain't no fairyland boy. This is the playground of the demons."


I pushed his hand off of my shirt as he smiled wickedly. "What the hell is going on here?" I asked, not expecting a direct answer.


"Lemme explain somethin' to you, boy. Us three brothers been together like this for years. We were left here in this God forsaken place as lil children. Barely five or six years old each. Now, over five decades later, a day doesn’t go by where we aren't so paranoid, we jump at our own shadows."


"Paranoid of what?" I asked.


"You believe in ghosts, boy?" Jacob asked.


I laughed at that question. It was ridiculously absurd and I immediately knew that all three of these bastards were just a bunch of old lunatics. "No," I answered smartly.


I suddenly realized that it was dark outside. And the air was cold. Even though it was the middle of the summer, it was Texas. I was thrown out of my train of thought as something it my leg. It was…..a teddy bear.


I reached down slowly and picked it up, keeping my eyes on Ralph. I then turned around to see if there was someone behind me…..and there indeed was. It was a little girl standing about three or four feet away from me. She was wearing an all white gown, wearing school boots, and holding a double-barreled shotgun.


She began to speak. "I was abandoned here too. My daddy told me he would never do anything to hurt me, but then he left me here never came back. "


I didn't know what was going on. I simply held up the teddy bear and asked her, "Did you drop this?"


"And now," she continued, "I starved to death and rotted away while vultures picked at my decaying, diseased flesh all because my daddy was a liar. But that’s okay. Now, I have all the friends in the world. We play together all the time and we love this town. It's like a giant playground for us. Do you wanna play too?"


I turned to face Ralph, Jacob, and Kenneth, who were all in the process of pulling out guns of their own, staring at the little girl.


The little girl then pointed the shotgun directly at me. However, before she could fire, I heard Ralph yell duck before he fired his pistol directly at her forehead. The gunshot sent the girl straight to the ground, causing her to drop the shotgun. The three Maston brothers slowly walked over to her body as I stood there in shock.


"What… the hell…." I said aloud, breathing heavily.


Ralph slowly turned toward me and said, "She is one of them. A ghost. They're all over this goddamned place. Listen, we-”


Suddenly the girl's eyes shot wide open, revealing sullen black spaces where her eyeballs should have been.


"Run." was all I heard Ralph say. My legs and my brain acted different unfortunately. I ran in the opposite direction of the Maston brothers, while I wished I had followed them. Eventually, I just didn't care where I was headed, as long as it was away from those loons. My aimless running brought me to a dead end; a grassy area surrounded by rocks and boulders.


I sat down to catch my breath. "What in the hell just happened? Why did that goddamn lunatic ask me about ghosts…"


My wondering aloud stopped abruptly, and my heart nearly followed suit. I turned slowly to see the little girl standing only ten feet away from me, and noticed the gaping hole in her head oozing a dark, thick, bubbling steamy fluid over her face, causing the “skin” to slowly peel away and fall in slimy, bloody heaps to the ground. I slowly began to rise to my feet and back away.


"Please don't try to escape" she said. Her voice had changed dramatically, as it now sounded unnaturally slow and horribly demonic Her rotting head leaned lazily to one side, half of it completely hairless due to the sickening fluid. "I only want to play with you."


"Get the hell away from me!!!" was all I could say.


She held out her hand. "Please don't try to escape…"


I pulled out a pocket knife and revealed the blade. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, and I don't know who or what you are, just leave me the hell alone!!!"


She smiled as her blackened eyes shined in the darkened atmosphere. "Why, don't you see, mister? I wanna be your friend. Won't you come play with us?”


"Us?" I asked.


The little girl pointed behind me, and I turned around to see what she was pointing at.


"Dear God…"


Thousands of other little girls and boys like her were standing behind me now….almost a legion of dead ghost children..


"You're not real…'re not real!!!" I screamed at the lot of them.


"Then you have nothing to fear," giggled the little girl in front of me…





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