The Passenger
Taking part in a challenge to post one of my oldest pieces of fiction!
Okay, so first off disclaimer: This is not my oldest piece of fiction that I still have in my possession, but it is one of my oldest pieces of fiction that I had typed out and saved to google drive.
On this past Macabre Monday,
submitted a challenge to those of us who partake in the horror-sphere on Substack. His challenge was as follows:I have a challenge for you this Macabre Monday!
This week I have posted a story from when I was 16 for my GCSE English class.
I dug out an old USB with the ‘precious’ document the other day.
I only read a few paragraphs because that is all I could manage without cringing to death.
So read it at your own cringing risk.
THE CHALLENGE
I dare you to post your earliest work that you have available.
How could I resist? So I grabbed my own story and decided I would post it this week instead of my originally planned Friday post. Don’t worry, next Friday will be another usual post in Astra, but in the meantime let’s look back at where I came from…
So, this was from a high school creative writing class when I was 15 in which we were prompted to write a story based on a song. I had become recently enthralled and inspired by the band Deftones, and their song Passenger. There I was, an edgy 15 year old watching with pride as my creative writing teacher read this out loud in front of the class. I think as an adult I’d rather roll over and die than hear someone read this story aloud, but that doesn’t mean I can’t share it here.
Please note, I did not make any edits, and frankly I only read a couple lines before I felt a little silly, so this is for the fun of the challenge. I hope you enjoy this look into my writing roots!
Oh, and stick around until (or skip to) the end for a sneak peek into next week’s post!
Without further ado I present to you The Passenger…
I didn’t know how I got there or why. I got in the car, sure. I drove… but why? Or better yet, where? I stopped. That was plain to see, for there was a passenger in my seat. His eyes covered, hooded in the darkness of the night. The moon covered up in the deep fog. Not a shine nor glimmering hope in sight… that is besides my headlights. The old clunker never struggled through these old country roads, but tonight it seemed to lurch through the passing night. Watchful eyes glowing in the underbrush. The headlights catching their reflections for merely a second. My passenger breathed out. Eyes shooting to him, watching the cold air swirl away. He coughed, “Won’t you,” He began powerful yet soothing, “drive faster.”
I said nothing, yet he knew I’d listen. My foot pushed down on the gas. Just a little. There was no lurch, but a heavy rumble from under us. A heavy awareness. I knew what was happening. My passenger’s voice whispered in my ear, though he never moved, “Faster.”
I obey. Not because I have to.
45
I have control.
50
I am in control.
55
I am the driver.
60
He but the passenger.
65
I am in control.
70
My passenger lays back in his seat. Letting out a deep breath as the cold air swirls round and round about him. His eyes still hide in the night. His fingers ran along the glass as he stared into the trees. They never seemed to end. That’s why I liked this road. I could drive forever. This phantom knew I could too, but I was unsettled. I was worried in a sense. Where was the man going. Why did I take him with me? Why was he to be my passenger? I looked in my mirror to see beyond the end. To see where I came from. The strange apparition of a man shot a glance to me, “Why would you care?” I didn’t answer. What does it matter tonight? What was special about this evening? About my passenger? Who ever said that he could tell me what to do? I felt as though it was time to depart from my burden. Leave him here. In the forest. I wonder now, why leave him? But it is simple. He- my passenger- was petrifying. The way his voice got under my skin and deep into my soul. I felt no chill in the car, but his air still lingered as though there was. He was the silence in my car. He was the creature getting under my skin, a simple man, my thoughts of him more terrifying than he could’ve ever been. He wasn’t a monster, but he was wrong. Wrong in his demands and his gestures of power. He had no control over me. My foot pulled away from the gas.
65
“What are you doing?”
60
A whisper so slight
55
“Higher”
50
“Don’t pull over.”
45
“Drive”
40
A little louder
35
“Faster”
I felt myself slow, further and further. I’ll stop here. This is the edge. This is the end of the ride. For him at least. This was before he moved. Putting his cold, frozen hands onto my arm. It was as if he frosted me. My foot pushed down. Down, down, down.
40
I am the driver
50
I am in control
60
This is my passenger
70
I am in control
“Don’t pull over.” He whispers to me again. My silence was my cooperation. He knew it, and so did I. “We’re almost there.” My Passenger leaned back once more. Silence was no longer an option, but an obligation. It was merely the smart thing to do, but I knew well, I was not smart.
“Where are we going?” My break in the unspoken oath made my heart skip a beat before bursting into a panic. It screamed for me to stop. My passenger merely laughed. Breathing out his wicked air that danced amongst us, he leaned forward.
“To the end.”
I still couldn’t see him, but instead knew what was there. There was no demon nor monster. No angel or even savior. No king among peasants or an outcast of the party. This was truly My Passenger. And as his smile glimmered in the light, a snarled smirk. Twisted yet charming, he spoke up, “Take me to the edge.”
Edge? Where was the edge? We are in the forest. The winding road. But where was the end of the road? The voice laughed. The smile stayed firm. Mocking me. I looked to the passage. We weren’t in the trees anymore. We were gliding down a road, laying firm on a cliff.
“Faster.” My passenger cackled.
80
“To the edge!”
90
He screamed in my ear
100
“Will you be free with me tonight?”
110
“Will you taste the end?”
120
“Or will you indulge in it?”
130
The old car lurched even more, unable to control itself on the cliff. I tried to control it. I tried so hard. I looked to my passenger. He smiled, “Take me to the edge.”
A swerve
I was weightless
A jump
I was flying
A crumble
I was free
My passenger was gone. but his voice breathed in my ear as I reached the bottom.
As I gave in to him
As I reached my freedom.
As I reached my peace.
As we became one.
“Don’t let me go.”
Well, wasn’t that something? If I remember right, this class didn’t typically give grades on our creative writing until our final paper, but I remember the teacher saying he thought with a few edits I could enter it for a writing scholarship. I didn’t go into literature in my college education so I never did that, but it was fun to think about nonetheless and I remember feeling really special that someone thought it was good enough to maybe do that.
Anyway, as promised, a little teaser for next week’s post: Rebirth (part 1 of 2?)…
“Navia.” She said with a meek smile.
“Like… the goddess?” The old shimmering blue Child of Koh with the datapad asked with a raised eyebrow. She winced, Bad name choice. This was Ling, she supposed. He looked as though he had been on the railway for a long while. She wondered if when he was younger, his blue Koh skin shined brighter. Maybe people mistook him for a Xella - maybe his skin twinkled like the stars in his youth. Or maybe he always had a dull shimmering tired blue glow to him. Maybe Ling was always Ling.
“Yep… like the… goddess…” She hung her head. “Navia.”
“Okay, Navia it is then. You’re on the loading zone with me. Your pay will be transferred to your datapad when we get to Ravyn’s End. You load up the goods, ride along, unload, we pay you, you go on your way.”
“Yes sir.” She said, resisting a salute. A childhood in a military capital will have that effect on you. “One problem…” She wrung her hands and tugged on her curly hair.
“Go on then.” Ling replied, flicking through his datapad without looking back at her.
“I don’t have a datapad…” The man raised an eyebrow. For a brief moment she saw his skin flicker a different shade of blue. She was pretty sure that meant a Koh was experiencing a different emotion, but she never met many Koh in Cain. He knitted a short beard upon his chin and thought for a moment. Finally, he nodded,
“Alright, goddess,” She winced at his playful sarcasm, “I’ve got a spare. You can use it. Put your information on it and don’t lose it. I expect it back and wiped when you get off this rail. Hear me?” She resisted another salute and instead nodded profusely,
“Thank you so much, sir. Thank you thank you -”
“Ling’s fine, kid. Just take it easy, okay?”
Stay tuned for the beginning of Rebirth next week! Thanks for hanging around on this lovely Friday!
Pretty impressive for a 15-year-old! I don’t think I have anything from that age.. pretty much everything I did in high school was hand-written 😆
That’s actually pretty good for a 15 y.o. I still have some of my scribbles from that age but I refuse to look at them haha