© Allen W. Simpson

I see the past with
A clarity, crystal clear,
There’s only one path
Left to take, I fear.
Remember me as I die…
Fragment from ‘Last thought’ by Allen Simpson

Jack was lying on the cold concrete floor, watching his life’s blood slipping away. Memories flashed before him. The scream of tires trying to brick still fresh in his mind…

It started out quite innocently, three kids going for a picnic at The Fountains. Finch’s Finch-mobile was packed with food, blankets and booze, and his sister, Rhea had a small leather pouch with her, clutching it mysteriously. Jack was new to the neighbourhood and when Finch and Rhea accidentally bumped into him at The Hamburger Stand yesterday, he discovered that he liked them. They spend a few hours talking about the City and all the cool places too hangout at, since Jack didn’t know this part of the city very well.
“Tell you what Jack, let’s meet here tomorrow and go to a cool picnic spot. Since you’re new, my Sis and I will get everything, all you need to do, is to turn up here at, let’s say at Ten? Finch suggested.
Jack decided to go.

Then yesterday, Jack waited at The Hamburger Stand and they pulled up with a brown Volkswagen Beetle. Finch got out of the car first, grinned and slapped his car on the hood.
“This antique is the Finch-mobile, the most reliable ride in all of South Africa.” He said.
Rhea climbed out and shook her head. “Men and their cars, really.” A small breeze blew from the south, and her long brown hair fell in front of her face. She swiped it away.
“Let’s see if we have everything,” Finch said, grippingly at his sister.
“Food?” Finch lifted an eyebrow.
“Check,” Rhea said and winked at Jack
“Booze?“
“Every bottle accounted for, sir,” Rhea said and saluted.
“Jack?”
“Check, sir. The VIP is waiting at the rendezvous point, sir”
“Now let’s get the fuck out of here!” Finch said and they all laughed.
Finch climbed back into the car.
Rhea winked at Jack and took a small leather pouch, hanging on a thong, from her neck and grinned evilly, “Hope you like surprises.” She said, waved the bag in the air and crawled into the back passenger’s seat.”
Jack climbed into the car and Finch started up the engine.
As the three drove to the Fountains, Finch and Rhea showed him interesting places by driving by and screaming at him.
“That’s the Union Buildings”
“The State Theatre”
“Church square”
When they hit the road leading out of the city, Jack laughed and said jovially, “Man, that was the quickest tour through a city I ever had. It’s like that add on TV with the two women taking pictures while the taxi driver yell out the names of the places.”
“Oh, we’ve never seen that add,” Rhea said, with devils in her eyes.
They all laughed.
“Ever since I saw that add, I wanted to do something like that as a joke,” She said.
Finch lit a cigarette and offered one to Jack.
Jack took it. “You know they say these things will kill you.” He lit his cigarette.
“Oh, been there, done that, bought the T-shirt and the hat.” Finch said and a bitter smile crossed his face.
“Hey, keep your eyes on the road, Mister Morbid,” Rhea said.
Finch sighed, and began to sing Jack and Jill went up the hill’ under his breath.
Jack made a tortured face. “I’m starting to hate that song.”
“Come on, Jack, it can’t be that bad. I wish there is a song about Rhea,”
Rhea said.
Finch grinned. “There is a song about you, little sister… ‘She drives me crazy’.”
“Hey,” Rhea said and slapped her brother’s arm lightly.
They crossed the bridge to the Fountains, Finch and his sister fell silent. On the bridge were a few construction men busy repairing the bridge.
“That’s where the car went over,” Finch observed.
Rhea turned over to Jack. “A girl, her best friend and her brother drove over the bridge into the river a week ago. The best friend survived but is in a coma…”
“That sucks, man. I feel sorry for them.” Jack said, sombrely.
They stopped at the entrance of the Fountains. There was no one to pay the entrance fee at the gate.
“Guess we get in for free, today,” Finch said.
They entered the Fountains, and drove until they found a spot near the river. A few meters away from them there was an area where there was a fire recently, above it was the bridge they used to enter the entrance. Rhea gestured to the spot like a prophetess. “There they died.”
“Come on, Rhea. You listen to too much Goth-rock these days. Sisters of Mercy is driving you insane.” Finch said.
“Hey, I didn’t know you’re into Goth…” Jack said.
“My best friend is, her name is Mara, I’d love to introduce her to you…”
Finch glared at Rhea and she stopped speaking, instead she grabbed a blanket out of the car. “Okay, I’ll get everything ready, you boys must start the fire for the barbecue.” She said with a sigh.

They just finished eating when Finch handed Jack a joint. “Hope you smoke dope… I like some dope after a barbecue, it taste different.”
Jack took the joint from Finch and took a drag. The sweet taste of cannabis filled his mouth. “Good shit, man,” he said in a high voice and grinned. He handed it to Rhea.
“No thanks, those things can make you ‘loco’.” She said and lit a cigarette.
Jack took another pull and handed it back to Finch.
“Put on the car radio, will you.” Finch asked Jack.
Jack switched on the radio and ‘Don’t fear the Reaper’ blared out of the speakers.
Jack felt the first pangs of a dope rush flowing over him, and allowed the music to take him away.

It was dark when Rhea woke him up. They were sitting in the car and started to move away from the picnic grounds. A strange smell came from Finch and his sister, a sweet sickly smell. Rhea grabbed Jack by his wrist.
“Hey,” he yelled at her.
“Listen to me, Jack.” She said. He relaxed slightly. “A week ago, Finch, Mara and I came here to have a picnic. When we went back, we picked up a hitch-hiker. He was dressed like a postman. He gave me this. She held out the leather pouch, and he took it. They were nearing the exit of the Fountains.
“As we drove over the bridge, the man disappeared, like a ghost. Finch lost control over the car and we crashed into that spot you saw. Mara is in coma. We died…”
Jack started to pull away from Rhea.
“Oh crap, you’re nuts. Let me go!” The door next to him locked it’s self. Jack screamed.
“Come with us, Jack. Death beckons you to come.” Finch said and switched the radio on again.
‘Don’t fear the Reaper’ played over the radio.
“And they started to fly…”
Jack tried to hit a hole in the car window.
“She had taken his hand…”
A small crack appeared in the window.
Rhea and Finch laughed.
They were nearing the area were Rhea and Finch crashed.
‘Come on, Mary;”
He managed to make a bigger hole, and started to free his wrist, the ghost was holding.
“Don’t fear the Reaper”
“Keep your damn pouch,” he said, throwing the leather pouch into Rhea’s face. With his last strength he pulled free and started to climb out of the racing car window. He was halfway when the car started to drive off the bridge. The car tried to brick…

Jack was lying on the cold concrete floor, watching his life’s blood slipping away.
Memories flashed before him.
The scream of tires trying to brick, still fresh in his mind.
He felt something in his hand.
It was the leather pouch.
He looked up. He was still on the bridge. He was blacking out when a car stopped.
“Oh my god!” a voice said.
And then there was darkness..

© Allen W. Simpson

Author’s note (2004)
‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ by Donald Roester. Copyright by Blue.Oyster. Cult Songs, Inc. Used without permission, hope they will not mind.
‘Last thought’ By Allen Simpson Copyright by Allen W. Simpson. Used with permission (since I wrote the poem…)
All characters in this publication are fictitious and all resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is pure coincidental.
I was listening to Aerosmith’s ‘Jane’s got a Gun’ and it inspired me to write this ghost story, don’t know why.
Allen W. Simpson
06 August 2004

Author’s Note (2013)
Found this on my pc and decided to share it on my blog after fixing a few potholes. I do hope you enjoyed my ghost story.
Allen W. Simpson
10 December 2013

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