It was the fall of 1980. My girlfriend and I were driving home from
seeing The Shining at the drive-in movie theatre. I really liked this
girl,
she was a really attractive blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl. On our way
I stopped the car in the woods a few miles outside of town, a little
ways away from her house. We started to have a little fun in the
backseat of my
car. As things got steamier, she stopped me and said, "I think you
better take me home. It's getting late." I knew I was pushing her, but
with a girl this good-looking I couldn't help myself. When we had made
our way back to the front seat, I started the car. There was
only one problem. The car wouldn't start. Our minds began to race. How
many
things could happen to us out here in the middle of nowhere? I knew it
was a couple of miles from any place to get gas. I told her if
she would stay in the car I would make my way back to town to get some
gas to get us home. We were both nervous and uncomfortable with the
situation, but I told her if she would stay on the floor in the
backseat and cover up with a blanket, so no one could see her if they
looked in. I would be back as soon as I could.
As I started walking to
get gas, I began to hear noises in the woods around me. Brushing them
off as my imagination, knowing I was just spooked because of the movie
we had just seen I kept on walking. But the farther I walked the more
the noises became more distinct. I then started to see movements off in
the woods. I was terrified. I could not go any farther. I turned around
and started heading back to the car, but every step I took seemed to
get a little faster, and soon enough I was running. I began to hear
footsteps behind me. I tripped over a rock, and instantly there was
intense pain piercing my shin. I felt like I had broken my leg. I
frantically began looking in every direction around me. I could see
nothing. I saw no one. A sense of relief came over me. I began to
think about what I would do to get back to the car with my leg being
the way it was when I felt a large thud.
I was beginning to get nervous because I knew he should easily be back
at the car by now. With the wind blowing there began to be a faint
scratching noise on the roof of the car. Trying to drown out the noise,
I turned on the radio. I was listening to the music, with every minute
that passed I was becoming more nervous about the situation. I couldn't
just
sit in the car and not know what was going on. I was growing terrified.
My mind began to race about what could have happened tomy boyfriend.
Was
he ok?
Did he make it to get the gas? How long till he would get back? My
thoughts were interrupted by the damn branch scratching the car. I did
not know what to do. The minutes had turned to hours. Should I get out
and start to walk home? I decided to stay in the car. I began to doze
off, but was woken up every so often from that damn branch. I decided
if I was going to control my thoughts at all I would have to get rid of
that branch. I cracked the door to the car, the whole time remembering
my boyfriend's voice telling me to stay in the car. I stepped out of
the
car, and saw a gas can sitting next to the back tire. Where was he? I
looked up to where the scratching noise was coming from. There he was.
Hanging upside, with blood covering the top of the car. He was almost
unrecognizable. His throat was slit, and was barely attached to his
body. Sobbing, I scrambled to get back in the car, lying down under a
blanket I thought. "I would not move for anything, or anyone."
Authors note: The original story of The Boyfriend's Death was told with
a couple of different things happening to the boyfriend. I chose the
one with him hanging above the car. In the story I gave a lot more
detail, and changed it to give the perspective of the people involved
in the story rather than just telling the story. I think by doing this
it will help people put themselves in the situation of the people
involved. The original stories of The Boyfriend's Death simply said
what happened to in the story. It was a very brief summary. This gave
me a lot of room to work, and helped me create a scary story on my own.
I did try to make the story pretty scary, while leaving out a lot of
specific details. I think by doing this you let the audience’s
imagination run wild. I've always found that I get more scared by own
imagination rather than by what someone tells me, or what I see. I
think that the horrors of stories are created by those who hear the
story. How would you feel if you were in this situation? Put yourself
in the character’s shoes. It won’t a fun experience.
