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|The Mist (standard:science fiction, 744 words)|
|Author: Michael Lance Kersting||Added: Jun 05 2009||Views/Reads: 1658/974||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A mist on a lonely highway changed my view on the supernatural.|
For Stanley My name is Vincent O Hara and I am a Professor Of Physics at the local University . I always like to think myself as a rational guy and shun everything that couldn't be proven scientifically as nonexistent. The story you are about to read changed all that. I was driving home late one night on a lonely highway in Memphis, Tennessee ,when I saw a thick, green luminous mist forming before me. I was a bit puzzled at it's appearance to say the least, however, I continued driving and heard loud of crackling sounds as I drove through it. I must admit, I became scared. In what seems a lifetime, I finally emerged from it a bit shook up but continued driving then the car shuddered to a stop. I had ran out of gas. Cursing all creation, I got out, went around to the trunk, and took out a jerry can hoping to bum a lift to the nearest gas station. After a short while, a small truck pulled up and the driver, a young man with a slick of hair on his forehead asked me where I was heading in a slow Southern drawl. He somehow looked familiar but I couldn't placed his features. I told him to the nearest gas station and explained the situation.. ‘Okay, sir, hop in.”He said politely. I got in, resting the can between my knees. After a short while he asked,” Do you like country music ,sir?”, “Yes,” I replied, “My favourite singer is Charlie Pride,the black singer.” “Charlie Pride? wal, I never heard of ‘im, sir, ” said the young man. “Well. I have to admit, it's a bit unusual for a black person singing country music. We more associate blacks with rhythm and blues, jazz, etc." “Yeah, I guess.”said the young man evenly, “but I never heard of him.” Eventually ,we pulled into a gas station. I got out and filled the can at the pump, then we went into the little convenience store attached to the station to pay for it. Inside, the young man asked what I was having to drink. I told him a Coke would be fine. He nodded and went over to the coke machine as I looked around. Curiously,the whole décor was set in the fifties. There was a Wurlitzer juke box blaring a Hank Williams tune,”Cold, Cold Heart”. with it's plaintive melody filling the air. The noisy crowd were mostly men dressed in western gears, chatting. I went over to a vacant booth and sat down. “Now, that there is the grand daddy singing.” said the young man smiling, returning with the Cokes in his hands. He sat down opposite me. “Yeah, he was great artist .” I said sipping the drink. “Was, sir,? Why, he‘s having a show at the Grand Ole Orpy tonight.” An eerie feeling washed over me. I couldn't explain it but I felt that something was wrong,terribly wrong. ‘You've got to be kidding me, son, Hank died fifty years ago!” He looked at me straight in the eye as if I was crazy or something. “No,he ain't,sir “ he got up,a puzzled look on his face and went. across to a newspaper stand with some news papers on it.He shuffled the papers around a bit, and returned to the table and sat down. Click here to read the rest of this story (28 more lines)
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