《Crown of Ashes》
Trash Man - part 1 | The Stranger
¡°Watch out for Old Moss and the Trash Man¡± Will said, not knowing that line would change his life forever.
This is a story I waited a long time to tell. However, I should start this story from the beginning, right?
Alright, let¡¯s try this again, properly this time.
Some time ago, a regular kid and a weird man met. Not too long ago, mind you. They already had their little pocket computers. They met on a night like any other, at 3 am inside a convenience store of a gas station. In a small town named Ashbrook, in the south of ¡. Well it doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t remember anyway.
So, Will. He is your average late teen. Working in a low-paying job, dreaming high. But not knowing how to get there, though, as one does at 19 years old.
That day, for Will, started like any other. It was 9:40pm. And Will was late for work. Again. He woke up with dry drool glued to his cheek, wondering what year it was. He checked his phone and saw the time and he was in a panic.
He jolted from the couch, wearing this stained shirt, underwear and socks and ran to the shower, TV still on. Took out his shirt in the hallway, the underwear at the door to the bathroom and jumped into the shower. Still with socks on.
Now, dear reader, you have to be thankful that you can¡¯t smell things through words. Because this place smells like¡ ass. And dirty socks. Wet socks? Will finished his 20-second shower and noticed the socks, tossing them to the corner ¡ª oh ¡ª and entered his bedroom to dress for work.
Shirt, pants, socks ¨C dry ¨C shoes. Door, car door ¡ª oh yeah, keys. Door, keys, car door. Now he forgot his phone. One more time for good luck. The TV was left on, however.
5 minutes later and he was at the gas station, where Thomas was waiting for him, checking the watch when Will entered.
Clocked in, ready for work. Will closed the door entering the tiny space behind the counter while Thomas closed the door of the store. Perfectly timed.
And there it is. All that running, just to start a shift where absolutely nothing happens. It¡¯s a small town ¡ª nobody¡¯s out filling their tank after dark. But Will didn¡¯t mind. It¡¯s only because of how greedy Old Bob is that he has a job at all.
3 AM. The witching hour, some say. ¡°The boring hour¡± Will said to the soda cans and candy bars. He had already read all the magazines and pamphlets in the store by then.
Bored as hell he pulled out his phone. Right after, a noise.
Will jumped off his chair. A car. A very loud car. A customer, for the boy¡¯s surprise. Driving a dusty, beat-up old black Lincoln Continental. Not that Will knew that ¡ª he didn¡¯t know shit about cars. All he knew was, that boat looked like it¡¯s had its ass kicked.
The driver got out ¡ª and walked like he was the one who did the kicking. Tall, wearing a long, heavy wool coat, ranger boots, and a wide-brimmed felt hat, he walked towards the store. Will was already on his feet, waiting, excited.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
¡°Good evening,¡± the boy said to the man, noticing the deep scars across his face. The hat covered half of it ¡ª up to his nose ¡ª but the mouth, cheeks, and chin were carved with scars, framed by a patchy beard. The welcoming energy drained from Will¡¯s body before he finished the salutation.
The man walked over to the counter, head lowered, and stopped in front of the boy. Will cleared his throat ¡°What can I do for you, sir?¡±
The man lifted his head and looked at him ¡ª at the horrendous red-and-white uniform.
¡°Map?¡±
Will is baffled. ¡°A map?¡±. Well, he looked too¡ unique to be from around here. Must have been from out of town. No way someone like that lived here. The town¡¯s folk would''ve eaten it up by now.
¡°We¡ have it, sir.¡± Will reached behind him, grabbed one of the pamphlets, and handed it over to the odd man.
The stranger unfolded the map and studied it for a moment. Then he slapped his hands on the counter ¡ª all nine fingers spread wide.
¡°This is not complete,¡± he grunted.
¡°Hmm? Sir? This is the only map we have ¡ª it¡¯s a small town, and¡¡±
¡°Where the fuck is the landfill?!¡± he screamed, and Will could swear the stuff on the top shelves shook a little.
¡°The¡ the city dump? They don¡¯t usually put that on a map, sir¡¡±
The boy was sweating.
The man stared straight into Will¡¯s eyes. Then he took off his hat and set it on the counter, revealing a blind left eye and a black right one. His hair was dark and greasy, and more scars stretched across his forehead.
He took a deep breath. Hands rolled into closed fists.
The stranger stared into the boy¡¯s skull.
¡°Do you know where it is¡ª¡± he squinted to read the boy¡¯s name tag ¡°Will?¡±
Yes, Will knew. Everybody did in this hellhole they called a town. This was where all the surrounding cities dumped their waste. They saw Ashbrook as just a giant landfill. More like Assbrook, the young say ¡ª Will included. He couldn¡¯t wait to have enough money to leave, even if that meant leaving his folk behind.
¡°Who the hell shows up at 3 a.m. asking for the landfill?¡± Will wondered. The guy smelled weird ¡ª metallic, with a hint of something sour ¡ª and stood too still. Creepy didn¡¯t quite cover it. There was something off about him.
Will blinked. The stranger was still staring. He realized he had forgotten what was asked.
¡°Boy?¡± he asked again, with a raised voice this time.
He was startled and replied with a squeak,
¡°YES, I KNOW, SIR!¡± The stranger flinched a little ¡ª just a little, don¡¯t get too excited ¡ª with this unexpected yell.
He slid the map towards Will, then took his hands off the counter, still locked in an unbroken stare.
¡°It is not on the map, sir.¡± Will was more in control now. ¡°It is just outside the town¡¯s graveyard,¡± he said, making that tight little face people make when they¡¯re about to throw up.
The stranger looked at the map, then back at Will.
¡°The graveyard?¡±
With a shaky hand, Will pointed to the corner of the map without even looking at it, just staring at the man.
The stranger closed the map and turned around, walking towards the exit.
Will, feeling a bit of relief seeing the man leave, thinks he¡¯s safe ¡ª safe enough to offer a little extra information, as good customer service.
When the man was almost at the door, Will yelled something that made him stop in his tracks.
¡°Careful with Old Moss. And the Trash Man.¡± Will gave him a sheepish smile. The smile died the second the man turned around.
He knew Old Moss was just a crazy old man who made the landfill his home. But the Trash Man... This one was a local boogeyman parents would tell their kids so they wouldn¡¯t wander to that side of the town. Never worked though ¡ª every single kid has a story of their own about the Trash Man and Old Moss.
The stranger turned around and walked back, holding his hat in his right hand ¡ª the one missing the middle finger ¡ª and stopped where he was before.
Oh boy, you had to say that, didn¡¯t you? You could have saved yourself.
Will flinched as the stranger stared at him again. His mind flashing a big neon sign that says, ¡°Oh fuck¡±.
¡°What do you know about this...¡± he asked, dragging out the words ¡°¡Trash Man?¡±
¡°What ¡ª¡± Will cleared his throat, ¡°¡ª everybody knows. That he lives deep in the landfill, in the oldest and deepest of the piles, the one with the most rot and filth, or so the saying goes. Every kid has tried at least once to find this pile, but no¡ª¡±
¡°What about you?¡± he asked, interrupting.
¡°Well, yeah.¡± Will shrugged. With a lowered voice, a little ashamed, he looked down and continued, ¡°And I could swear I saw movement somewhere past the roads.¡± He finishes, unsure if he should have shared his old childish adventures. The man might believe him.
The stranger studied him for a moment. After a few seconds, he put his hat back on, then let out a long sigh.
¡°You are coming with me,¡± the smelly customer said.
Trash Man - part 2 | Roadkill
The stranger¡¯s car was equally smelly. Fitting.
A million questions were circling the boy¡¯s head, but he was too afraid to ask any. The stranger had been close to him the whole time, from the store up to the car.
He had his phone in his pocket ¡ª it had been there the whole time, and he was trying to figure out how to make an emergency call without the man noticing. He tried his best to keep a poker face while his right hand was inside his pocket, touching the phone, almost there¡ª
¡°Calm down, boy. Breathe,¡± the stranger said, interrupting his thoughts. He noticed the boy was clenching his fist, all sweaty. Looked like he might collapse.
Will reacted to the phrase like he had been punched. He started screaming in terror and tried to open the door of the moving car. The man then tried to keep Will seated while driving, but Will did put up a fight. An ugly and loud fight, however.
This was when things started to go downhill.
Swerving the car to the side of the road, the man stopped to try and calm the boy.
That didn¡¯t work. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t.
When the car stopped, Will saw the opportunity, opened the door, and ran into the woods across the road.
The stranger leaned back and sighed.
Will ran like his feet were on fire, arms flailing. But soon they became jelly, and he had to stop behind a tree. He sucked in quick gulps of air, lungs burning. He hadn¡¯t run in years ¡ª the last time was when the neighbour¡¯s dog chased him.
The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Alternating between listening for the stranger and trying to slow his breathing, he thought he was safe. He reached for his phone, hands shaking and sweaty. Unlocked it. Opened the Phone app. Started typing¡ª
¡°Are you done?¡± the stranger whispered, close to his face.
Too close.
His mouth was near Will¡¯s right ear ¡ª close enough that Will felt his breath.
It was no better than the rest of his smell.
Will made a funny noise. Funny to me at least. Certainly not to him.
¡°How did you get he¡ª¡±
He didn¡¯t have a clue who he was running from. If he did, he would¡¯ve known running was futile.
Before he could finish the question, the man grabbed his device and threw it far away, without breaking eye contact.
¡°Hey! That¡¯s mine!¡± he yelled, but the man got even closer to his face, staring at him.
Only this time, there was rage in his eyes.
¡°Shut up,¡± he growled, grabbing Will¡¯s right arm and dragging him back through the woods, towards the car.
When they reached the vehicle, the man threw Will back into the passenger seat and slammed the door. The window was open, and the stranger leaned against it, getting close again to the boy¡¯s face.
With all the patience in the world, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took something out. Fake patience, for the record. He wanted to punch this kid real bad.
It was a gun.
Will stopped breathing ¡ª eyes wide, face pale. Poor boy looked like roadkill that saw it coming.
¡°Let¡¯s start this again. Hmm?¡±
Will nodded, terrified.
The man walked around the car, sat in the driver¡¯s seat, closed the door, and started driving again.
Trash Man - part 3 | Old Moss
They drove in silence the whole 10 minutes it took to cross the town. Will was, at this point, feeling hopeless. The neon sign in his head went from ¡°Oh fuck¡± to ¡°I am gonna die tonight.¡± The man noticed the boy¡¯s lifeless eyes but said nothing. The regret was stamped on his face, but he was too stubborn to admit he¡¯d fucked up another life he came across.
I¡¯ve known him since¡well, forever, and I can say with propriety: nothing new under the sun.
The graveyard. Spooky as it should be ¡ª for most people. No low fog drifting between the headstones, however. Shame, it would¡¯ve matched Will¡¯s mood.
There was only one light illuminating the place, coming from the small church in the middle of it. It was a small wooden structure, pointy and old, and could barely fit 30 people at once. The graveyard surrounded this little church, and there was a footpath leading to it. A low fence, also made of wood, was used to demarcate the area. The asphalt ended there, in front of the graveyard. From then on, it was only an unkempt country road. Behind the area, there was a thick forest, framing the little cemetery.
Perfect setting if our story happened here. But it didn¡¯t.
The stranger slowed down in front of the graveyard but didn¡¯t stop. He looked at Will and said, ¡°You will now tell me where to go.¡±
Will nodded. He had been unable to say a word since the woods. His talkative nature was lost, along with his phone.
The road continued clear until they reached the edge of the forest. There was a metal gate there, and a fallen sign next to it read ¡°KEEP OUT.¡± The man opened the car door to get out but then stopped and looked at the boy again.
¡°You¡¯re not running again, are you?¡±
Silence filled the car. Both just staring at each other.
Then, Will moved ¡ª shook his head, confirmed he wouldn¡¯t move. Apparently, it was pointless. He hadn¡¯t even seen the stranger coming before.
The stranger then left the car and opened the gate. Will didn¡¯t move, as he had promised.
They were now driving in total darkness, just the car¡¯s headlights lighting the road. The forest was so dense they couldn¡¯t see anything past the trees on either side. The man was driving slowly ¡ª the road was uneven. Both were quiet, listening.
Curves and more curves in the road. Fallen trees, rocks, mud. But no bugs. No animals. Just the sound of the wind. They did not notice that.
And then the smell hit them. A stench of decay ¡ª putrid air, garbage, rot, death. It found them before they could find its source. A quiet ¡°ugh¡± slipped from Will¡¯s mouth as he buried half his face in his sleeve. The stranger didn¡¯t seem to bother. But he did smirk when the boy gagged a few times.
This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
One last curve, and they reached the landfill. Two large mountains of trash sat side by side at the entrance, and another larger one loomed at the back. The road continued between the first two piles and turned right before the larger one. They kept driving slowly, but now the man was looking around, searching for something. Will noticed but said nothing.
After turning right and driving a little further, they reached an opening. It was big enough for ten garbage trucks to maneuver with ease. Multiple roads led out of that area. The stranger stopped the car.
¡°Where to, Will?¡± he asked, leaning back.
There was an underlying concern in that question. It sounded confident, but when he said Will¡¯s name, it trembled a bit.
Swallowing hard, his mouth dry as dust, Will wet his lips and said,
¡°Left. Take the... second road on the left.¡±
¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±
¡°...Yes.¡±
Before the man started driving again, he took a deep breath and said to the boy,
¡°I am so¡ª¡° but he paused for a second. ¡°You can have this car when this is over.¡±
Will looked back at him, stunned. The stranger was trying to offer some comfort, but Will was only confused.
The last part ¡ª when this is over ¡ª was what stuck in his mind, and he was really looking forward to that.
They started moving again.
Passed one, then two, then five large piles of trash. Then another intersection, and a few more. More mountains of waste ¡ª decomposing memories, things people no longer considered important.
Then they reached a small intersection. But this one was different. It was smaller, and it appeared that two mountains had merged together. But after further inspection, they could see there was some sort of order in the middle: a large flat piece of metal, then two fridges on each side holding it horizontally.
It was a roof. And walls. There was even a door in the front ¡ª made with a single dirty mattress leaning on one of the fridges. Will gasped. He recognized the place.
¡°Old Moss,¡± he whispered.
The stranger was unaffected. He wasn¡¯t seeing or hearing anything. ¡°What could some old cuckoo possibly d¡ª¡±
Something cold touched the man¡¯s face. He froze. First, disbelief. But next, rage. Pure, old, honest wrath. He slowly looked at whoever was holding that piece of shit, who dared to touch his face.
It was an old man. Old Moss, he presumed. The name was fitting ¡ª his clothes were covered in dirt and, well, moss. And his ¡°perfume¡±? Putrid, pure carrion, like he was already dead but no one told him.
¡°He said you would come one day,¡± the old man grunted.
When he spoke, the stranger could see that only a few teeth had survived this lifestyle, and to his disgust, he could see mold inside the man¡¯s mouth.
¡°Did he tell you who I am, though?¡± the man asked, staring into Old Moss¡¯s eyes.
¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Get tha fuck out of here!¡± he yelled, racking the shotgun.
Will was frozen in place. Again with the deer-in-the-headlights eyes. He had seen Old Moss only once in his life ¡ª and it had scared the hell out of him. The old man was just walking. But he ran so hard that day he felt blood in his mouth. But now? Now he was aiming a loaded fucking shotgun at them.
The stranger was calm now. Slow breathing, hyper focused.
And in a split second ¡ª he grabbed the shotgun¡¯s barrel, pushed it aside, and with his right hand pulled out his pistol and shot the old man right between the eyes. It was so fast that Old Moss only fired upward, his body already falling to the ground.
Will was screaming. He heard nothing. He had seen Old Moss¡¯s brains fly, his eyes explode. The wet sound as he hit the ground. The late shotgun blast.
Screaming, screaming his lungs out, hands covering his ears.
The stranger put the pistol back inside his coat and leaned back, waiting for the kid to calm the fuck down.
Trash Man - part 4 | Old Moss, again
Will was screaming and crying, alternating with shouts of ¡°YOU SHOT HIM!¡± The stranger just sighed.
¡°Where to, kid?¡± he asked, in a moment of silence between a shout and a scream. No help ¡ª Will was not calming down.
¡°I... told you... to...¡± a faint voice came from outside the car. A wet, broken voice. Will stopped, breathing loudly. The man was also surprised.
¡°...GET. THA. FUCK. OUT. OF. HERE!¡± Old Moss yelled, grabbing the shotgun that had fallen next to him when he hit the ground.
The stranger shoved Will¡¯s head down, just a moment before the old man shot the car from the ground where he still was. That was the second shot of a double-barrel shotgun ¡ª they had a little time until the old man reloads. He opened the door at once, getting out of the car. Shards of the broken window fell on his coat. Old Moss fumbled for new shells, tried to stand ¡ª but the stranger shoved him down. The shotgun fell.
The stranger put his right foot on the old man¡¯s chest, pinning him down. The man on the ground yelled some obscenities at him, with what was left of his eyes dropping out of his face, blood spitting out of his mouth.
¡°YOU ARE GONNA BURN!¡± he continued. Or tried to, but what came out was ¡°YOUBLAEBLHONNABLURN¡±. His mouth was a bloody soup of spit and the last of his rotting teeth.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Then the stranger stomped the man''s chest once, breaking his ribcage. The sound was mushy and wet, with a muffled cracking sound underneath. The old man went from cursing to gasping for air.
Another stomp, another gooey and fracturing sound, more oozing and sludgy this time.
Then another one.
And one more.
Until the man felt the ground under his foot. And no Old Moss gasping for air.
This time, however, the stranger did not stop there. He grabbed the man by one of his feet, dragged him to an open fridge and tossed the man¡¯s body inside. Then closed the door and rolled the fridge, door facing down. And to make sure, he dragged over another fridge and stacked it on top.
Will did not see any of this, though. His head was still down, hands covering his ears. However, he heard. Oh yes, he heard all of it. All the mushing, the gasping, the cracking, the dragging. He was paralyzed, thinking he was in a nightmare. One of the very monsters of his childhood was stomped to death by his kidnapper. This was pure nightmare fuel to poor Will.
The stranger started to walk back to the car when he heard it. Movement. Far away, something large and heavy moving. Then the sound came. A roar so loud it felt like thunder. The piles trembled. Loose trash rained down from all directions. The man stopped walking.
Then it came again ¡ª this time, a word could be heard.
Brother.
The stranger smiled. He had found what he was looking for.