Patrick McNulty

Brad Thomas is an English author of Horror, Thriller books and short stories. He is also writing his grandmother’s life story. From a young age, all he wanted to do was become an author. Growing up in Tipton, West Midlands, England, he never thought it would be possible, but he never stopped chasing his dream.

You can find out more about Brad’s books and work on his social media: Facebook / Instagram

SLAY RIDE

by

Brad Thomas

It was that time of the year again, George would dress up as Santa Claus for the towns Christmas fair, he loved putting smiles on everyone's faces. He’d decorate his truck, so it looked like Santa's sleigh, then he would sit on the back ready for his friend Steve to drive it down the streets of Carthage, Tennessee. They’d lived here their whole lives, everything was great for George until last year, but he would never talk about it. This would be his first Christmas without his family, he'd lost his two sons the last Christmas, when their car was found upside down on an embankment near the river, their bodies were never found. This supposedly tipped George's wife Cynthia, over the edge and she disappeared. The people of the town loved what George did, everyone would have pictures with him, he'd ask children what they wanted for Christmas and told them all to be good, as to avoid ending up on the naughty list. He would pretend to write down their Christmas presents in his diary; he took his diary everywhere with him.

It was Christmas eve now; George and Steve were both getting ready to leave on the truck. They took to their positions and Steve began to drive. They played Christmas songs through speakers in the truck as George waved at all the men, women and children. As they turned into the Main Street North, George heard a loud thud on the truck behind him. He turned around but there was nothing. They continued down the street waving at everyone, even George’s friend, Ruben Brandrick was outside his coffee shop waving. George heard another loud thud. What the hell is that he thought to himself. He looked around yet again and saw nothing.

They turned right at the end of the street, heading towards the Cordell Hull bridge. George was confused as they never came this way before, but then something made him look up as they were about to cross the bridge. He thought he saw something on top of the bridges structure.

"Steve? Where are you going?" George called out, but Steve couldn't hear him.

Just then the thing seemed to jump from the bridges structure, swoop down and flew past George.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" he shouted to himself. "STEVE? STOP THE TRUCK."

but Steve couldn't hear him. George was confused and Steve began to pick up speed. What’s he doing? George asked himself.

Just then George heard the thud yet again, this time he felt ice cold chills run down his back, as it felt like someone was stood behind him breathing down his neck. He stood up off his little makeshift seat and spun round so quick that he nearly lost his balance.

His brown eyes opened wide as his jaw dropped open. I must be dreaming, he thought to himself as his heart began beating faster and his breathing became heavier.

"There's no way, you're not real." George said looking at this figure standing in front of him.

"You... You died last year." George cried out, as the shock on his face became fear with the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"No Dad, it’s me. I’m here."

"Ryan? It can't be...it’s impossible." George replied, so scared as he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

It was his son Ryan, standing on the back of the truck. Ryan was thought to have been deceased the previous year when he and his brother Richard, also thought to have been deceased, were in the car accident, but this didn't stop George from carrying on normal, like nothing had happened.

At this point, George thought he was having a nightmare, it couldn't be Ryan. His face was pale as ice cold snow, his eyes were like deep black, empty voids.

"We're doing this for mum, we could of all been so happy dad."

"We? What you mean, we?"

Ryan pointed towards Steve, sitting in the front of the truck with him was George's other son Richard. Steve must not have been able to see Richard, as he was driving along like nothing was happening.

George was so confused now, he began crying.

"Stop crying, Dad. You should have shown mercy to us and mom." Ryan whispered in George’s ear.

As soon as Ryan finished whispering, he took what looked a knife, from his pocket. George was horrified, he closed his eyes and began begging for his life, as Ryan was yielding this blade in front of him. He finally opened his eyes again looking at Ryan, as the knife came straight towards him entering his chest and piercing his heart.

George, dropped to the floor on the back of the truck, the blood gushing out his wound was barely visible due to him wearing the red Santa suit.

Ryan, looked up from his dad and towards Richard.

"NOW BROTHER." Ryan shouted.

As soon as he gave that order, Richard spun the wheel out of Steves hands, flipping the truck. It flipped many times before it reached its resting place, down a steep embankment.

The next day, Carthage police were notified that a truck had crashed down the embankment. They attended the scene and found the bodies of George and Steve. They also found the diary belonging to George.

The diary was examined, and forensics were horrified at one passage in the diary which read.

I can’t believe I lost my temper; she was driving me crazy. I wish I wasn’t holding a knife at the time, but I couldn’t help it. Once I realised what I’d done, I buried her in the basement. I just wish my boys hadn’t caught me burying her, they would still be here today. I had to make it look like an accident, I couldn’t go to prison.

Forensics searched the basement of George’s home, three bodies were found and later identified as George's wife Cynthia, and their two sons Ryan and Richard.