The Lost Road

Every year, our caravan headed west. When we got to the big, wide-open spaces, we would pick up speed on the blacktop, whizzing by forests and plains so that the hot summer sun would wink off the chrome of the big rigs as we followed along. We were headed to the big rodeo outside Cody. It was late, and I was snoozing, so when Mama cursed once and then twice, I startled awake, groggy-headed.

“Oh, holy hell!” Mama said. I could see we were alone on the road. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

“Where is everyone?” 

“I’ve lost ‘em. They got ahead of me, and now they’re just gone.” Mama looked grim.

“They’ll stop when they realize they’ve lost us,” I said, hopefully.

We drove on, the inky landscape perforated by the yellow lines of the blacktop.

“Look!” I pointed at the dim halo of something in the distance. It was a gas station. The Good Neighbors, the sign said. 

“Where are we, Mama?”

“I don’t know, Baby.” Mama smoothed her hair in the rearview mirror. “Let’s find out.”

Outside, the air was warm and sweet. We walked to a low building painted a peeling yellow and entered.

“Hello?” Mama’s called out. I picked up a paper package off a Formica shelf and turned it over in my hands.

“Those are real good.” A high voice spoke near us, and we both jumped.

“Dang! You gave me a scare!” Mama gasped. We turned to look at the man who spoke.

He was short but well-proportioned, with a long face and white-blond hair. His eyes were so pale they might have been white, too. The whole effect was unpleasant. He pointed at the packet in my hand, with long nails filed to points.

“Those are real good.” He repeated and licked his lips. 

I put the package back, and he looked briefly disappointed. 

“We seem to have gotten turned around,” Mama said and pulled out the old road map we’d been using and put it on the counter, pointing to our route.

“That map is mighty worn,” he said, bringing his face close to peer at it. 

“Yes, well, we’re aiming for the rodeo in Cody.” Unease sloshed under the surface of Mama’s voice.

“The ro-dee-oh, eh?” His voice had a mocking lilt. “You’re in luck.”  He pointed out the window. “The rodeo’s right there!”

Tents and horse rings covered in bright flags stood as though they had been there the whole time. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open, and when I looked up at Mama, her face was lined with shock.

“How…?” Mama turned to the little man, who grinned like a jack-o-lantern. “Come on, Baby, let’s go.” Mama pulled me toward the doors.

Outside, the rodeo blocked the road. Our little trailer was visible on the far end of the fairground. Mama looked scared, but she took my hand in hers. 

“I think we gotta walk through it, Baby.” 

Behind us, we heard a high, tittering laugh and some other sound, like a keening wail.

“Don’t look back.” Mama’s voice was barely a whisper.

Walking past the first tent,  I glanced inside, and somehow, it seemed bigger inside than the outside. A colossal rodeo ring was set up, with great, black horses–larger than any I had ever seen–bucking and kicking with eyes like hot coals. Like pictures from some book about the ancient world, men with hair and beards plaited with blue paint struggled to master the beasts. I watched as a huge mare threw a man, his body crumpling then staying still.

“Walk.” Mama hissed. In another tent, the horses surveyed men kneeling in the dirt. One horse threw its head back with a terrible scream and dashed its hoof against one of the men’s heads. As I gaped, the horse turned its red eyes on me, and a terrible fear rushed through me.

“Run!” Mama was pulling me along fast. Screams and cries were all around me, and the smell of the horses filled my nose and choked me. 

Our trailer was ahead, sitting serenely on the empty road. Suddenly, Mama froze, and I slammed into her from behind. The strange little man from the store stood ahead, prancing from foot to foot, waving our old battered map. He flapped it, gurgling and hissing with glee.

“You gifted this to me!” He taunted, holding the roadmap in his hands.

“Leave us alone!” Mama shrieked. I had never heard her sound so scared.

“Oh no, I won’t do that. I shan’t do that at all!” He writhed unpleasantly. “A gift is an invitation to stay for a while.” He unfolded the map, and a strange smokey tendril surrounded it, spreading in the air between us. The tendril reached out to curl around Mama’s forearm. 

“No!” She cried as it buried under her skin, causing it to undulate like water. 

“Mama!” I tried pulling her away, but she turned to me, kissing my cheek hard.

“Run, Baby,” she whispered, shoving me hard.

I ran.

I barreled past the little man. I could hear him, behind me, screeching like a hundred demon horses, and Mama screaming her head off, and suddenly, it all stopped. 

 I was alone, illuminated only by the headlights of our sad little trailer. There was no carnival or rodeo. The dark was silent and undisturbed.

“Mama!” I screamed, but she was gone. 

I waited a couple days until my water ran out, and then I had to move on. I come back regularly. Once, I found our roadmap lying in the road. I called out for hours, begging the little man to return, bring my mama back, or take me, but he never did. That was more than fifty years ago, and Mama might not even be alive anymore, but I still come back, hoping I can gift that map to the little man so I might have a chance to see Mama one last time before I die.

A horror themed flash fiction by Meg Colbert