I Live In A Small Town In Texas Called Sanderson, And I Can Tell Something Weird Is Going On

Through the sweat and adrenaline, I gathered enough courage to look to the left when one screech sounded especially close. Just at the edge of the dim light the truck cast, I saw a lanky dark figure running on all fours. It was at least seven feet long, from head to toe. It might have been black, or dark enough that it may as well have been. Hair or skin, it wasn’t smooth, but it did shine just a little in the light of the moon and the truck. It kicked up dust as it kept up with the truck doing 60 miles-an-hour.

I jerked my eyes forward as it screeched again and I pushed my foot into the gas pedal as far as I could. The sounds of the screeching were suddenly cut by the roar of a train. I was getting close the tracks that ran close to town. I could see the light of the train cutting through the night. The railroad crossing was already blinking ahead of me and the gates were coming down. I felt as if I was pouring my fear and panic into the truck through my hands into the steering column. It was as if I was keeping the tire from completely blowing out and somehow making the truck go even faster. I yelled out as I sped in front of the train, wanting to do something other than sweat and grind my teeth before I was smashed to death by a freight engine. The train missed the tail end of the Chevy by maybe a foot. My yell turned into a triumphant laugh that matched the loudness of the train’s monstrous whistle blowing and roaring engine.

I managed to make it into town as the lights of the main street started to go dark around me. I steeled myself to look around again. I glanced right and left, and into the rearview mirror. I didn’t see a damn thing. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not, but ultimately, I guess I was. I pulled back into my driveway and quietly went back inside my home, which I’m now starting to think of it less and less as home.

I snuck back into my room, my heart thumping in and out of my chest all the while, and my head aching with frightened questions. What the hell was that thing? Why is everyone in this dry, freaky fucking town closing in on me? Does everyone know about those things? And if it was one of those animals that chased me home after work, why didn’t it catch me? I fucking hauled ass, but those fuckers were keeping up with my truck pushing 70. Did it want to kill me? When they slashed the fucking Chevy, why didn’t one of them just gut me when I got out? What the hell is happening in Sanderson? Can I even trust anyone here?

There were too many questions. Too many questions and no one to ask. I pulled out the only source of information I knew I can trust: the internet. I researched this damn town, and aside from a string of bad luck like floods and businesses leaving, nothing interesting came up. Sure as shit nothing interesting like creatures in the fucking desert or the brainwashed townsfolk of Sanderson.

Then my mind flashed to my almost-collision with the train.