Page 1 of Riding the Reaper

1

SAM

What a way to get dumped.

On Halloween night, no less.

I shove through the side door of the barn, and the cool October air hits my face. Good. I need it. Forty people just watched Brianna tell me I was “holding her back” before she turned and danced off with Luke. Luke, of all people. That smug bastard has been hovering like a vulture for months. Guess he finally got what he wanted. And I just stood there in this stupid skeleton costume with this plastic scythe in my hand, watching it happen.

My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. I toss the scythe onto a hay bale and kick a carved pumpkin off the edge on my way past. It rolls to a stop at my feet. Lopsided, snaggle-toothed grin. Looks like it’s mocking me.

Screw this. I head for the woods, leaving the dull throb of the party behind me. My boots crunch through the dead leaves in the pasture. The moon is a sickly yellow behind skeletal branches, which is perfect, really. The whole world looks like it’s rotting.

I pat my pockets. Lighter, good. The smokes I bummed off some guy in a dinosaur suit on my way out are a little bent, but they’ll do. I stick one between my lips and light it as I walk, cutting across the field toward the tree line.

The dark woods look like the perfect place to feel sorry for myself.

I should never have asked her to use that strap-on.

I take a deep drag. The smoke burns my throat raw, and I cough like a freshman taking his first hit off a joint. Smooth, Sam. Real smooth. But seriously, who asks his girlfriend that? What guy looks at the girl he’s been dating for six months and says, Hey, you know what would be fun? If you stick this plastic piece of crap up my ass? I should’ve known better. Brianna likes things vanilla. Traditional. Like everyone else in this shitty town.

So much for being spontaneous. So much for being a modern, sex-positive guy. All that got me was a public breakup and the knowledge that my ex is probably already telling people what I asked for.

The party noise dies the second I step past the tree line. The air is damp, thick with rot and wet earth. It’s warmer here, though, sheltered from the wind. I yank the hood of my skeleton costume down. Itchy as hell.

The path isn’t much of a path. More of a deer trail winding through thorny brush that snags at my sleeve. I follow it anyway, puffing on my cigarette, the cherry a tiny angry dot in the dark.

Story of my life, apparently. Following paths that lead nowhere.

But seriously, is it that weird to want to know what it feels like? To switch it up? Why do I always have to be the one on top? Just once, it’d be nice to… I don’t know. Not be in charge. To have someone else do the work. Trust someone enough to… what was the phrase I used? “Explore new dynamics.” God, I’m an idiot.

I said it when we were in the middle of it, after I’d gone down on her in my bed and she was still writhing. It seemed like the right moment. But Brianna’s face went tight. That look of disgust, lit by the lamp on my nightstand. I can still see it, the way her nose wrinkled, the way her lips pulled back.

That was it. The moment the clock started ticking on us. But she still came to the Halloween party with me tonight, so I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That we were okay. That she’d let it go. That she wasn’t going to twist it into something ugly in her head and hold it over me.

I should’ve known. Of course she was planning to end it. She was just waiting for the perfect, public, soul-crushing moment. Instead of talking to me like a normal person, she went for maximum damage.

I take another drag. My eyes are adjusting. The trees are packed tight, but enough moonlight leaks through to turn everything silver. Almost beautiful, if I wasn’t so fucking miserable.

A little creepy, too. Branches reach for me like spindly fingers. Something rustles in the undergrowth to my left. Probably a raccoon. Or a squirrel. Or whatever the hell lives out here.

I’ve only been walking for maybe five minutes, but it feels like I’m deep in the woods already. And I’m not even sure where I am anymore. The trail’s gone. I’m just... wandering. Good. Keep walking. Get lost. Maybe I’ll live out here. Become some mountain man who talks to birds and eats bark. Better than going back to town and facing the whispers.

A big oak tree catches my eye, and I unzip my costume and take a piss against the base. The sound is shockingly loud in the dead quiet. A whole waterfall. When I’m done, I shake off and zip up. Right then I hear another rustle. Louder this time.

And I could swear I see a shape moving behind that bush over there. Darker than the dark. The cigarette’s down to the filter. I pinch it out and toss it.

“Hello?” I call out. “Anyone there?”

No answer.

Right. Of course. It’s the woods. Things rustle. Get a grip, Sam. You’re a twenty-one-year-old man. You’re not scared of the dark.

I turn to head back the way I came, hoping I can still find the trail. That’s when a twig snaps. Closer now. Behind me. That’s not a raccoon. That’s someone trying to be quiet.

I whip around, fists clenched. “Hey, asshole. I’m not in the mood.” My voice comes out tight, angry. “Show yourself, Luke. You want to gloat? Do it to my face.”

But it’s not Luke who steps out from the bushes. It’s not anyone I’ve ever seen before.