“The No-Show” by Ben Biersmith
I ran after him down the gravel road until I was doubled over gasping for air and he was
just a white shadow in the distance. Sticky, foreign night air enveloped me completely. I
stumbled about the road, groaning and grasping at my throbbing gut. My blood was beginning to
boil up and into my neck. I was at once exhausted and exhilarated. Beads of sweat sprouted and
gushed down the sides of my face in strips. I spat at the gravel beneath and reached for my
cigarettes, catching glimpses of the moon in my periphery. My left forearm started spasming
uncontrollably. My jaw clenched tightly as I dragged on my cigarette. Then, suddenly, he was
there. Right beside me in the road under the shadows of the branches. He looked about
sixteen. Skinny, brown curls and dark blue eyes. He reminded me of a childhood friend. His tshirt, emblazoned with a skateboard logo I used to wear in high school intrigued me deeply. I
stepped forward to ask him about it, and he quickly lurched back into the shadows, obscuring his
face.
“Why’d you run?” I asked him. No answer. I caught the edge of a sly smile beneath the
shadows. Then a sensation seized me that was so powerful that I instantly dropped my cigarette,
ejected all the air from my lungs and fell down to the road below. I thrashed around for a few
moments, gasping for air. Then there was blackness.
*
*
*
“Ed,” I heard my name and felt a steel-toe gently prod my ribs. “What are you doin’,
man? We’re about to head up to the Church.”
My eyes narrowed and I squinted enough to see Matt’s silhouette in the moonlight.
“He’s over here, dudes! Passed the fuck out on us,” Matt called out. “Guess they must be kickin’
in!”
I heard my friends laughing as they approached us. Matt helped me to my feet and patted me on
the back. “What’s up man,” he whispered, “ We were hangin’ by the fire and you just took
off. You seein’ shit?”
“Me?” I asked, “No, I didn’t see anything. Just...are we sure we’re all here?”
Matt chuckled. “Yeah, man. Pretty sure. You wanna do roll call?”
“No,” I said, “Just feel like someone’s missing.”
The moon hung brilliantly above us, a pearly pristine platter bleaching forth brilliantly through a
sink full of jet black motor oil. I began to constellate the shimmering stars into ancient maps of
ruined villages which were then buried by ravaged cityscapes and then ultimately drowned in an
ocean of black night sky. I brought my cigarette to my lips. Calloused fingertips grazed dirtsmeared lips. I felt a smoke pillar twisting in my lungs like a translucent sandworm burrowing
through time and flesh.
“Dudes,” Matt said, “Ed’s totally tripping already. He says he saw a ghost! These things are
gonna rule!”
“I think I need more,” Doorknob sulked, “I don’t feel shit,”
“You gotta give it more time,” Glowworm offered, “you guys aren’t even thirty minutes deep
yet.”
“I think I’m gettin’ somethin…” Gator said, looking up into the clouds, “You guys see that
Vishnu up there? In the moon? Vishnu? Buncha’ arms twistin’?”
“Oh shit,” Matt said, locking eyes with Gator briefly and then zeroing in on the moon again, “I
totally do see that shit! We should get down to The Church before we start peaking-”
“This trip is gonna be like nine hours, dude. You don’t even know what peaking is yet,”
Glowworm said, jotting down notes on a small yellow notepad. He approached me slowly,
doing his best to assess my pupil enlargement in the dark and then taking more notes. “Did he
say something about a ghost? You saw a ghost?”
I dragged on my cigarette and sighed. “Not a ghost. I was just sure we had someone else with
us earlier, and I thought I saw him but I guess not…”
Glowworm hummed to himself for a moment, perched his left arm on his hip and tapped his pen
against his pocked chin, eyes narrowing in brief, intense speculation.
“Probably a dream remnant or something,” he decided and jotted something down quickly.
“Hey man,” I said, stepping toward him slightly, “I know you’re the DD tonight and all, and I’m
grateful for you. Seriously. But can you not take so many notes about us? Makes me feel like
we’re in a science experiment.”
Glowworm chuckled and stuck his pen and notepad back in his pocket.
“No worries, pal!” he said, “Now, let me ask you...what do you think this dream remnant is
telling you about yourself?”
I stopped paying attention to him, noticing a tree silhouetted against the moonlight on a distant
hillside that transformed into a gigantic mammoth and started rambling towards us with a
demonic, menacing grace.
“Dudes!” I called to the others, “We may wanna hustle up a bit if we’re wanna get to
hell! Looks like Doom is hot on our trail,”
Matt chuckled back at me, “Let’s let him get us,”
The gravel beneath us felt like a freshly razed monument. Glorious pride stripped down and laid
at our feet just to be stepped on. Crumbling values of a lost time felt like nothing but dust in the
cracks of our boots. The gravel was the framework. The gravel was the most important
part. The boys all tuned up heavenward to the SkyMax, but I had my peepers locked on the
Earth. The great mover. Always spinning. Hurdling towards oblivion and taking everyone with
it.
“Welp, pretty sure I just saw a snake that wasn’t there,” Doorknob said, “Guess I actually don’t
need anymore.”
“I saw FDR gettin’ a handy from Dennis Rodman behind that tree back there so I’m probably
good too,” Gator laughed.
“Yeah,” Glowworm said, “also, we stopped walking towards The Church about ten minutes
ago... you guys have just been standing here touching’ your faces.”
“It just feels so floamy,” Matt said, tugging at his cheek.
Glowworm squinted and took another note.
“Maybe we should head back to the tent?” he offered.
Coyotes in the distance sounded less like wild howling canines blessing the night with the
promise of blood and more like the thin, pinched wails of a starving marmot begging for
substinance. We’re just like them. All together but each totally alone. Striving for completion,
peace, action. We run with them and they run with us.
Back in the tent, Glowworm asked me again.
“What about the no-show?”
“The who?” I ask, chin on my chest, the five of us laying on our backs like link n logs, staring at
a red canvas intersections above.
“The guy who never showed, or who ran off?” Glowworm prodded.
“Told you to take less notes, dude,” I said.
“Dude,” Matt said, “What if this no-show guy is actually the fucking Devil? You know he’s
supposed to be out here tonight, that’s why we’re here! I can’t believe I didn’t put that
together!”
“Dude, I’m just tripping,” I said, “It’s just something I made up.”
“Doesn’t scare me,” Doorknob said, “Brought my 9mm in case things got weird. Stashed it in
my glove compartment.”
“Ok, I should probably know where that is,” Glowworm said. “Also, can I have your keys?”
“Dude,” Doorknob said with a stoic glare, “chill.”
“I just wanna fuck the sky,” Matt said with a satisfied grin.
“Totally,” Doorknob agreed.
“There’s that big ol’ motherfucker, Clinton Lake, about a mile East of here. Shitloads of sky to
fuck down there, I’d wager,” Gator offered.
Then they were off. I told them I’d catch up once I got some air. Could have sworn I saw him
again as they were leaving. A slinky silhouette appeared under an apple tree about fifty yards
away from the tent. Then it was gone. Then back again under a different apple tree about fifty
yards to the left. I went to Doorknob’s car, and pulled the door latch. Locked. Luckily, the
passenger window had been left down. I reached into the cab, opened the glove box and
removed the 9mm. Then he was right in front of me again. Pale but glowing. Diseases thriving
within him. Clouded organs pulsating through translucent skin. Dark blue flames in surrounded
black coled pupils. He reached for the barrel and put it to his forehead. I asked him why. He
told me it was too late. So I let him have it. And then he was gone. And the gun was
gone. And the arm holding it. We dissipated, re-formed and exploded again and again and
again.
Stull, KS has long been known as the site of various satanic legends and demonic folklore. The
small, unincorporated community is located seven miles west of Lawrence, KS near Clinton
Lake. Stull Cemetery is home to one of the most infamous sites in history, the legendary
gateway to hell. The gate is said to open twice a year, once for the spring equinox and once on
the night before Halloween, when Satan himself emerges. A small church was constructed in the
cemetery back in 1867, but was torn down mysteriously in 2002 after years of decay and
vandalism. The site where the church stood remains a major draw to this day for both tourists
and misanthropic youths alike.