AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first story and I know its not jaw dropping scary, so can you please leave suggestions for how I could improve for future stories in the comments? Thank you.
“Another one!” I said as I peeked between my blinds to look at my street and see the fifth trash truck I had seen that day. He was stopped, just like the other four, outside my house even though I didn’t even have my trashcans out. It was a Tuesday, and they pick up my trash on Thursdays. I couldn’t see the driver, but apparently he could see me cause he stuck his hand out of his window and waved. I didn’t wave back.
He then politely honked his horn. It sounded kinda like a clowns horn. He wasn’t mad, he just wanted to let me know he was there. Even though I obviously knew that already.
After about two minutes he stuck his hand back in to the truck and drove off, not stopping at any of the other houses. I watched him go until he turned the corner and I could no longer see him.
I sighed and laid back down on my queen-sized bed. I don’t like trash trucks. It’s not some weird phobia and I’m not scared of them, I just don’t like them. They smell, they’re extremely loud, they move so slow and my uncle Sal used to drive one and he was always mean to me as a kid. Never before had a trash truck creeped me out. It was uncanny, the way everything always happened exactly the same way. First, I hear the annoying roar of the huge hunk of metal, then I hear the breaks stop right outside my house, I look through my blinds (each time more secretively than the last), he sticks his hand out the window and waves, I ignore it, he honks his horn, and finally, goes away.
I coughed and sneezed, cause I was sick, which is also the reason why I was home on a Tuesday. I knew what I should do and you are probably screaming in your head right now what I should do. It was obvious, I just shouldn’t look out the window. I tried that the third time it came around, problem was I couldn’t stop. It was like my body was possessed every time the truck came around. It didn’t matter how or where I looked from, I just had to look.
My stomach grumbled, I looked at the clock and saw that it was 12:30 on the nose and 12:00 is usually when I have my lunch break, so I wearily got up and stumbled downstairs into the kitchen. I looked through my fridge and then through my pantry and remembered I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a week and had only bread, orange juice, and some saltine crackers. I decided to drive to the Carls Junior that was down the street. Then, I thought of that trash truck. I considered just staying home and being hungry to avoid the trash truck. Then I realized how ridiculous that was and made up my mind to go.
I went to the bathroom, saw I needed to shave, didn’t care, grabbed my keys and walked out my front door. I got in my car, put the keys in, and, of course, it wouldn’t start. I tried twice more to no avail until I finally gave up. Cursing loudly, I slammed the door, locked it and decided to walk. Yes, I was sick and really didn’t want to walk, but the now roaring hunger in my stomach kept me from going back inside. I threw on my AC/DC sweatshirt and started walking. The trash truck then rounded the corner. As the trash truck rounded the corner, I realized that there were no other cars on the street. The trash truck stopped, stuck his hand out the window and waved at me. This time I waved back, but with my middle finger. He didn’t respond. He honked his clown horn and as I reached the corner and turned he drove right past me in the direction I came from. I turned the corner, walked 30 feet and got to the next street.
He was waiting for me on that street. He waved, I ignored him this time, he honked, I ignored that too. I was in the middle of crossing the street when he took off full speed straight at me.
I screamed and ran back toward my house. I was fatigued from being sick and already out of shape so I wasn’t very fast and he drove after me. He moved at a speed I didn’t know trash trucks could move. He tried several times to crash into me. Every time I just narrowly escaped. Then he started laughing. It wasn’t a normal laugh. It was high pitched and uneven. It was the laugh of an insane man, of somebody who had lost it a long, long time ago. It also wasn’t coming from the truck or anywhere else, no, then I wouldn’t have heard it over my screaming and the sound of the truck. It was coming from inside my head. I got to my house and slammed the door behind me.
The laughing stopped; the sound of the truck stopped and everything seemed normal again. I walked up the stairs and looked out my window. There was no trash truck and there were cars outside again. There were also birds chirping and dogs barking which I hadn’t even realized were missing before. Everything was normal. For about fifteen minutes.
I had walked down stairs and I was watching ESPN when I started hearing the horrible laughter again. It was quiet at first, just white noise, but it was soon roaring inside my head. The TV turned to static and I began screaming. My screaming soon changed though. And it changed to laughter. The horrible, horrible laughter that was inside my head. I ran upstairs crying, but still laughing. I collapsed on my bed and I don’t remember anything that happened after that.
“Beep, beep, beep.” Said the alarm beside my bed. No, it wasn’t a dream. Though I wish it was. I checked the date on my phone to make sure of that. It was the next day. I looked out my window and everything was normal. I was feeling much better and I called my boss and told him that I planned on coming into work that day, but that I might be a little late cause I would have to take the bus cause the battery in my car was dead. He said “ok “ and that he was glad I was feeling better then we said bye and hung up. I was sitting on my bed. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I still had no idea what had happened the day before, but I was glad it was over. I was enjoying the silence, when I heard a trash truck on my street.
I didn’t look out the window and I don’t think I could’ve cause my legs were so wobbly. I felt like I had to barf. I listened as the rumbling from the truck got closer and closer. Then, it started to get quieter, and quieter. I realized that it was driving away! I sighed a sigh of relief and I couldn’t even hear the trash truck anymore.
“Beep, beep, beep.” It was the sound of a trash truck backing up. It kept backing up until it was right in front of my house. This time I knew they weren’t back to play games. Then I heard my front door kicked down and that laughter coming from my stairs.