Free A Penny Down the Well: A Short Story Collection of Horrifying Events by J. A. Crook Page A

the idea, too.
    Clint continued. “Some guy
just got into the car while I was waiting for the lead car to get
directions, or confirmation or whatever.” He sighed, looking away,
saying in almost a whisper. “Some old military officer. A crazy son
of a bitch, too.” And the craziness of the man was subjective. The
way in which the meeting came on seemed “crazy” to Clint, but the
story was more tragic than it was crazy.
    Kaylie leaned toward
Clint, being sucked in. “He just got right into the car?” The speed
of her speech increased. “What did he say? Why was he crazy? Did
you say anything back? Why did he get into your car?” The question
came one after another, like the rapid fire of a machine gun,
blasting holes through Clint’s weak comprehension of the
event.
    Clint lifted a hand,
hoping to stop her. It did. He answered the way he cared to. “He
got right into the car. It wasn’t part of the plan, I don’t think.
He just started talking about an old war tale of his. A terrible
war tale, with blood and dismembered body parts and... I don’t
know, it was nuts.” And that, he believed, it absolutely
was.
    Kaylie put a hand to her
chest and leaned back in her chair, in mild disbelief.
    “ And... why did he do
that?” The only question she was able to muster in the second
round.
    Clint shook his head,
watching her again. He spun his chair toward her and brought his
hands together, allowing them to hang between his legs.
    “ I don’t know. I thought
maybe he was senile. Maybe someone had lost him. I didn’t have any
time to ask questions.” Nor did he have the nerve, he thought.
“When he finished talking, he stepped right back out and left. That
was it. He said what he said and then left. Nothing more to it.
Things went on... normally from there.” As normal as he thought the
situation could be, at least.
    Kaylie’s mouth hung open,
then curled into a wide smile. “That is crazy!” She shouted, slapping his
knee. Kaylie seemed absolutely entertained and it struck Clint as a
bit weird.
    “ Weren’t you talking about
how terrible all of this seemed not that long ago? It’s a little
unusual that you’re so damn interested in it all now.” Clint
couldn’t help but criticize her response.
    Kaylie laughed and
shrugged. “Well, I would never do all of that myself. But, considering that you
did it, and have such a crazy story to tell... well, I have to
appreciate that a little bit. How crazy.” Crazy, it seemed, was the
word of the day. Clint thought it very suiting.
    The two didn’t talk much
more about the event. Clint would never share the tinge of feeling
within him that spoke unsettling things, things like “it was a
ghost” or “it was the walking dead.” Clint didn’t want to say that
his first experience working with the funeral home company was
terrifying and that he didn’t want to do it anymore. Then, the pay
was good. His reason fought so incessantly against the possibility
of the supernatural that the only thing he could do is remain.
After all, it was reason that told him not to worry, because it was
unreasonable that such a thing would happen again. So would be
determined a few days later, when Clint arrived for his second
job.
    In the funeral home, Clint
found himself more perceptive than he had been the first time. When
he looked at the crosses adorning the walls, he considered the
meaning they may have had to the people that walked the candle-lit
halls, on a march to meet those recently lost. With the staring
eyes of each painted picture of Jesus, the Christian savior, Clint
stared back, hoping to see something. As usual, he didn’t see love
or passion, insight or wisdom; indifference is what he saw.
Indifference may have been the very thing Clint needed to carry on
with the day’s task.
    Clint gave a quick rap to
the door of Marie’s office and spoke up. “I’m here. Car’s waxed and
polished. You can take a look at it if you want.”
    Marie looked up from