Sawyerville: Horror Short Stories From Another Earth Vol.3 by Remi Aubert Page B
Book: Sawyerville: Horror Short Stories From Another Earth Vol.3 by Remi Aubert
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Authors: Remi Aubert
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said, "We'd better report this to the sheriff's office."
Mrs. Travis is the strong-willed widow of the long dead Mr. John J. Travis, God bless his soul. She was one of the few people in Sawyerville who owned an automobile.
"Shouldn't we tell her father?" someone from the crowd suggested uneasily.
"Yes, definitely," Mr. McLaw agreed. "But, Mrs. Travis is right. The sheriff ought to know about this."
"Indeed," Mrs. Travis nodded matter-of-factly. "We'd better leave now before it gets too dark. Maybe you should come with us, McLaw, since you already have that, that thing in your hand."
Several people escorted the trembling Gail to Mrs. Travis' 1963 Austin Freeway. Mr. McLaw opened the passenger's door for her, helped her settle inside, then carefully shut the door. Mrs. Travis slid into the driver's side and slammed the door shut with ease. Mr. McLaw, who had the message and the eyeball with him, slid into the backseat and pulled the door shut.
"Buckle up!" Mrs. Travis said. She and Gail pulled down the seat belts and clicked them into place, except Mr. McLaw; there was no seat belt in the back seat.
Mrs. Travis started the engine. During their 30 minute drive to the sheriff's office, Mrs. Travis started asking Gail some questions.
"How's your father, dear?"
"He's... he's fine. He'll be back tomorrow," Gail managed to say. "He's gone off to trade with Pickler." Pickler was a store owner who lived in a town 20 miles away from Sawyerville.
"I hope his business is doing well," Mrs. Travis said softly. "My husband and I always thought his cantaloupes are the best in town."
"Thank you, ma’am."
"When your father was younger, he was such a promising young man. He had wanted to leave Sawyerville and become a doctor, I heard. But after your mother got..."
"By the way, Gail, where is your sister?" Mr. McLaw interrupted from behind.
"I left her at our neighbor's. Camille's her best friend. They play dolls there every day."
Gail thought about her little sister. I'm supposed to pick her up by now, she thought miserably. However, Gail finally managed to calm down and rationalize the incident as a prank that someone from high school must have pulled on her. Probably Mack Altaire, the high school jerk and Sawyerville's most promising baseball player. He had always been trying to get her to sleep with him. She began to wonder where he was now.
"Will she be alright over there, while we're on our way to the sheriff's?" asked Mr. McLaw, concerned.
"Yes, I believe she will be. I just want to get this over with." Gail sighed.
"Alright, well, then let's hope that this will be..." Mrs. Travis started to say, but before she could finish her sentence, something suddenly collided, hard, against the hood, causing her to frantically swerve the car on the side and crashing it against a big old tree.
Fortunately, the impact was minimal, so all Gail felt was a fright and pressure on her shoulder from the pull of the seat belt. She quickly turned to her side to see Mrs. Travis frozen in shock, her hands still on the wheel.
"Heavens!" Mrs. Travis burst out. She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. It was getting dark, so Gail could barely see her walk back toward the road to the place where she had hit something. Or someone.
"Mr. McLaw, are... are you alright?" she managed to blurt out as she fumbled to unbuckle her seat belt. "Mr. McLaw..."
"I'm fine, child," Mr. McLaw said from behind her. "Although I think my neck hurts a bit."
After she managed to pull off her seat belt, Gail quickly turned to face the backseat. Mr. McLaw was leaning against the back of her seat. The handkerchief holding the eyeball was on the floor of the car. It had unfolded, exposing what it held inside. Did it seem like the eyeball was staring straight at her? Gail shook the thought from her head.
"Mrs. Travis... she, she went out, to, to take a look at what the car hit..." she said nervously, looking at Mr. McLaw's worried face and trying not to bring
Mrs. Travis is the strong-willed widow of the long dead Mr. John J. Travis, God bless his soul. She was one of the few people in Sawyerville who owned an automobile.
"Shouldn't we tell her father?" someone from the crowd suggested uneasily.
"Yes, definitely," Mr. McLaw agreed. "But, Mrs. Travis is right. The sheriff ought to know about this."
"Indeed," Mrs. Travis nodded matter-of-factly. "We'd better leave now before it gets too dark. Maybe you should come with us, McLaw, since you already have that, that thing in your hand."
Several people escorted the trembling Gail to Mrs. Travis' 1963 Austin Freeway. Mr. McLaw opened the passenger's door for her, helped her settle inside, then carefully shut the door. Mrs. Travis slid into the driver's side and slammed the door shut with ease. Mr. McLaw, who had the message and the eyeball with him, slid into the backseat and pulled the door shut.
"Buckle up!" Mrs. Travis said. She and Gail pulled down the seat belts and clicked them into place, except Mr. McLaw; there was no seat belt in the back seat.
Mrs. Travis started the engine. During their 30 minute drive to the sheriff's office, Mrs. Travis started asking Gail some questions.
"How's your father, dear?"
"He's... he's fine. He'll be back tomorrow," Gail managed to say. "He's gone off to trade with Pickler." Pickler was a store owner who lived in a town 20 miles away from Sawyerville.
"I hope his business is doing well," Mrs. Travis said softly. "My husband and I always thought his cantaloupes are the best in town."
"Thank you, ma’am."
"When your father was younger, he was such a promising young man. He had wanted to leave Sawyerville and become a doctor, I heard. But after your mother got..."
"By the way, Gail, where is your sister?" Mr. McLaw interrupted from behind.
"I left her at our neighbor's. Camille's her best friend. They play dolls there every day."
Gail thought about her little sister. I'm supposed to pick her up by now, she thought miserably. However, Gail finally managed to calm down and rationalize the incident as a prank that someone from high school must have pulled on her. Probably Mack Altaire, the high school jerk and Sawyerville's most promising baseball player. He had always been trying to get her to sleep with him. She began to wonder where he was now.
"Will she be alright over there, while we're on our way to the sheriff's?" asked Mr. McLaw, concerned.
"Yes, I believe she will be. I just want to get this over with." Gail sighed.
"Alright, well, then let's hope that this will be..." Mrs. Travis started to say, but before she could finish her sentence, something suddenly collided, hard, against the hood, causing her to frantically swerve the car on the side and crashing it against a big old tree.
Fortunately, the impact was minimal, so all Gail felt was a fright and pressure on her shoulder from the pull of the seat belt. She quickly turned to her side to see Mrs. Travis frozen in shock, her hands still on the wheel.
"Heavens!" Mrs. Travis burst out. She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. It was getting dark, so Gail could barely see her walk back toward the road to the place where she had hit something. Or someone.
"Mr. McLaw, are... are you alright?" she managed to blurt out as she fumbled to unbuckle her seat belt. "Mr. McLaw..."
"I'm fine, child," Mr. McLaw said from behind her. "Although I think my neck hurts a bit."
After she managed to pull off her seat belt, Gail quickly turned to face the backseat. Mr. McLaw was leaning against the back of her seat. The handkerchief holding the eyeball was on the floor of the car. It had unfolded, exposing what it held inside. Did it seem like the eyeball was staring straight at her? Gail shook the thought from her head.
"Mrs. Travis... she, she went out, to, to take a look at what the car hit..." she said nervously, looking at Mr. McLaw's worried face and trying not to bring
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