Short Horror Stories ^~^

Sink Hole

I could smell the beer on their breath as they shoved me into the trunk of their Ford SUV.

"We're gonna scare the coward out of you tonight, boy." said one of Junior's cronies. Probably Todd Ripper, judging from the Mississippi drawl in his voice.

The others in the car snickered, and Junior said, "Todd, pass me a beer." A cooler opened somewhere in the front of the SUV, and soon the SUV was filled with the sickly sweet smell of cheap beer.

It didn't take a genius to guess where we were going. Life in this town revolves around the old abandoned farm, even though no was talks about it and rarely ventures close to it. The bumpiness of the ride told me that the SUV had turned off the main road and onto the neglected farm road that lead to the main farm house. After another five minutes the SUV had pulled to a stop, and Junior and his friend jumped out of the SUV whooping and hollering.

"Git 'im outta there boys", yelled Junior.

The trunk opened and a pair of strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me out of the trunk and onto the soft ground. I slowly stood up, and started to take my hood off before being punched in the stomach.

"What the hell you think you're doin', ya yella bellied prick." chuckled Todd as he pulled me to my feet again.

"Do what you're told, and maybe we won't post the video of this on youtube." said Junior.

Well, my reputation in this town can't really get any worse, so that's an idle threat. I did find it a little funny, though, that bullying has gone high tech.

I stood as still as possible, hoping to avoid giving them another reason to hit me. I resigned myself to a night of humiliation and discomfort. "Do what they say, don't make them angry." I thought to myself. Maybe I could run away if they got too drunk or became distracted.

Junior said, "Okay let's get going, don't have all night here." and roughly pushed me forward.

I obliged, and slowly put one foot forward, and then the other, carefully taking each step so as not to trip and fall.

"C'mon, ya wuss. Walk faster." said a new voice that I didn't recognize.

"Can't see where I'm going. I'd be able to go faster if I didn't have this hood on." I said softly so as not to give any of them a reason to punch me again.

Someone grabbed the hood and ripped it off, taking a few of my hairs with it. I looked up to see Chris Heply, my next door neighbor and my best friend throughout elementary school, holding the hood. He had stopped talking to me in eighth grade, an age when popularity and girls win out over childhood friendships.

Just as I had suspected, they had taken me to the old abandoned farm. The abandoned farmhouse stood in front of us, creepily illuminated by the fog lights of Junior's SUV. Graffiti covered the walls of the house, and broken glass lay below shattered windows. Crushed beer cans and empty liquor bottles lay strewn about the overgrown lawn.

Chris dropped the hood and said, "What the hell are you looking at, punk."

My nose wrinkled at the smell of his beer soaked breath. Chris bent over and opened the cooler that Todd had taken out of the truck.

Chris picked out a beer and handed it to me, "Here, drink one of these, there still might be hope for you." he said.

They all laughed, and Todd held up his phone. "Let me get this on video – baby's first beer. Chug it, now!".

I obliged them, cracking open the can, tilting it up and slowly drinking down the watery beer.

"Amateur hour, let us show you how it's done." said Todd. They all picked two beers each, and chugged them in quick succession.