This summer, for the first time in years, I had a schedule. This put me on a long, dark (more like pitch black), lonely road to my home several nights a week.
Being a writer, I should be able to describe to you what made the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I drove.
The road goes between one small town in the Ozarks to an even smaller farm community with only one viable business, a convenience store.
About a mile down this road you lose the light from the first town and the light from the quick stop ahead of you is not yet bright enough to be visible. All you have to guide you is your headlights.
There is no shoulder on the road. On one side, the back of fence of several farms flashes in the headlights. The other side is a hill goes up and disappears into the shadows, just past that is the railroad track.
In the last ten years, I have driven this road a thousand times, but this summer it triggered a recurring nightmare.
In my nightmare, I as drive down this road I spot something. I slow down to take a closer look. I spy a large wooden crate made of sassafras sticks tied together with yellow baling twin.
I turn the car toward the box so the light shines on it and slowly get out. The box is about 20 yards away. Should I go see if anything is in the box or should I stay close in case it is dangerous?
Something moves and I jump, trip over a rock and land on both hands and knees. From that position, I can see there is a small human chained to the crate.
At that point, I wake up.
I had this dream every night. It got so I hated to close my eyes.
One night when I woke up from my scary dream, I jumped up and went to my office where I wrote it down. That was at 2 am. At 6 am I was still writing and I was on chapter 6. That is how the Twisted Mind of Cletus Compton became a novel.
The funny thing is, after that night I never had the nightmare again.
Hum... leave me a comment and tell me what you think. Where did the dream come from? Why did it go away so abruptly?