Marti Mendenhall.com THE GHOST RIDER, By Sarina Dorie "And then the old man turned to the children inside the car, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural shine. And when he held up his hand, instead of a hand it was a bloody, stump full of worms," said ten year old Barry. "Ewe!" said eight year old Jimmy. "And do you know what he did with that stump?" he whispered, leaning as close to his brother as the seat beat would allow. "I don't want to know! I don't want to know!" Jimmy screamed. Barry's mother, Rose, eyed him in her rear view mirror. "I don't want any more ghost stories out of you. They scare him too much." "But-" "No buts. End of argument." She pushed a handful of her dark hair out from her brown eyes and returned her gaze to the road. Barry crossed his arms and stared out the window. The reds and golds of autumn laced the trees framing the winding road. The trees parted for a driveway leading to a secluded white building. A sign at the start of the drive read, "Shady Pines Retirement". From what Barry could see between the trees, it didn't look like much of a retirement center. He glanced at his brother playing with the dinosaur toy from his pocket. Barry wished he hadn't forgotten his book at home. The road to town was endless. He sighed. The car rounded a curve in the road. Rose shrieked. Barry looked up to see an old man standing in the middle of the road as his mom narrowly avoided hitting him. She slammed on the breaks and pulled the car over. The man was gone. Jimmy's lip started to tremble in that way it did when he was afraid. Barry reached out a hand and put it on his shoulder. "Jimbo, it's okay." Rose opened the car door and rushed outside. Barry could see why now. The man hadn't disappeared after all; he'd fallen into some bushes. Rose helped him to his feet. Barry craned his neck to see him. He was wrinkled and hunched over. He wore blue, striped pajamas and a brown sweater. Jimmy whispered, "The old man in the story, he was wearing unusual clothes, remember?" "That was just a story." He gave his brother a good-natured punch. "Besides, it wasn't pajamas he was wearing. . . ." His mom was saying something outside. Barry unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned closer to hear what they were saying. "Are you hurt? Did I hit you? Are you alright?" Panic crept into her tone. The old man kept patting his legs and chest as if checking for broken bones. "Think I'm alright." "I'm so sorry. Are you sure you're alright? Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need a ride somewhere? To the retirement center?" "You mean asylum, more like it. Ha! I've just escaped to go on a walk on this beautiful day and I'm not going to let a little mishap get in my way." Barry and Jimmy exchanged glances. Barry didn't dare say it, but the man from the story had escaped from an insane asylum. Barry knew the architecture looked too cold and modern to be a retirement center. Rose asked, "You mean they don't know where you are? They must be worried." "Oh, they won't know the difference. They only check on us when it's time for meds. You know how much they care about us? They . . . they . . . ." He paused and scratched his chin. "Oh, bother. I forgot what I was going to say." He spit into the bushes. Or it looked like he tried to, anyway. Barry wasn't sure anything came out of his mouth. Barry liked to spit. Spitting was way cool. His dad had taught him lots about spitting. The old man started to shuffle away. Barry's mom placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't need a ride anywhere?" The man hesitated, squinting at her. Jimmy whispered, "Don't do it, Mom." "Shut up, Jimbo. She can't hear you." Barry listened for the reply. He also hoped his mother wasn't going to drive this kooky old man anywhere. "Maybe down the road a bit," said the man, nodding down the road. NEXT

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