At the Drive-in
Flash Fiction ~ Horror ~ Sci-Fi
I recently submitted “At the Drive-In” to the editor of Death Knell Press. DKP hosted a “flash on the fly” writing contest, free to enter. The prompt was to write a horror/sci-fi story under 1,000 words about “Date Night.” All entrants had 48 hours from the moment the prompt was announced to submit their stories. My story was one of 220 submissions! I had zero expectations other than to have some fun. Though my story wasn’t selected as the winning piece, I still had a lot of fun writing it and with the challenge.
“Let’s hit the road, baby!” Dylan yelled into the summer night as he turned out onto Route 9W, passing through small towns. His left headlight was out.
“Oh,” Sheila said with a laugh beside him, “I’ve got the best song for the occasion. You know I love me some Ray Lamontagne, right?”
Dylan glanced at her sideways. “You really are the love of my life, you know that?”
Grinning, Sheila scrolled through her phone and selected the song. The small diamond on her left ring finger glimmered.
“Drive-in Movies,” Dylan half-shouted. “I knew it!”
The two scream-sang the joyous, melodic tune as the wind whipped through the old Subaru Outback.
The Mountain Drive-in was old-school and rundown. If you weren’t looking for it or didn’t know it was there, there’s a good chance you’d pass right by it in the daytime. The two-lane highway leading to it often got backed up on movie night – which happened to be every Friday and Saturday night in the sticks – in these rolling upstate New York hills.
Dylan put on his blinker as they approached the entrance. It was a single lane for some reason. The smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and marijuana was already prevalent. Cars inched their way forward. Soon enough, Dylan and Sheila pulled up to the long-haired high school kid manning the booth.
“Just two?” he asked, red-eyed.
“That’s it,” Dylan replied, then looked over his shoulder. “I hope,” he whispered to Sheila in pretend fright. She chortled into the last sip of her coffee.
The kid returned Dylan’s credit card and said, “Make sure you tune in to 92.7.”
“Got it. Thanks, boss.” Dylan lifted his foot off the brake, and they crept into the drive-in. Tonight’s movies were Arachnid and Hope You Enjoyed the Show, a double whammy of new horror flicks. They had earned a forty-three and fifty-two percent on Rotten Tomatoes, respectively.
The young couple couldn’t have asked for a better lineup, a better night.
They pulled into their usual spot, nestled near a giant oak tree. They liked to be tucked away from the sea of cars.
Dylan turned the Outback around and killed the engine. Sheila tuned in to 92.7. They popped the hatch, put the back seats down, and curled up on two flat pillows.
The giant white screen lit up and began rolling some previews. And then it was showtime.
Arachnid came on. It started fast. There was a lot of blood, a lot of killing. Giant spiders had infested a small-town church, and they went on a frenzy one quiet Sunday morning.
“This is so shitty,” Sheila said through a spurt of laughter. She took a drag on her joint and handed it to Dylan.
“Forty-three sounds about right.” But when Dylan raised the joint to his lips, something happened. Something strange.
The movie stopped playing. The radio cut out, too.
There was a loud, metallic, CLANG! It sounded like it came from across the highway, near the large stone quarry. Almost like someone or something had lifted a large grate, or a gigantic lid, and dropped it.
“What the hell was that?” Sheila asked as they got out of the car. Everyone else had, too.
Everything fell silent – only the occasional hum of a car on the highway.
And then, something big – some dark shape – came hurtling toward the sea of vehicles, as if flung by a slingshot.
It was a car, end over end.
The car smashed into the moviegoers. Metal and glass exploded. Alarms started blaring as people backed away from the scene, heading for safety.
Dylan and Sheila froze.
SKREET! SKREET! SKREET! sounded in the black night – a scraping on pavement. Something was heading their way – something monstrous. Something wicked. Dylan and Sheila poked their heads out from their corner of the lot and saw a colossal, metallic spider bounding toward the drive-in. It must have stood forty feet tall.
Where the hell had it come from? The quarry?
Someone – maybe the high-school kid – screamed into a megaphone: “RUN!”
The arachnid tore through everything in its path. It cleaved through cars, stomped through the bathrooms, and eviscerated a group of friends in a single swipe of its scythe-like, armored legs. The concession stand was flattened in the blink of an eye.
“Come on!” Dylan dragged Sheila away from the scene and into the woods. Families and friends bolted toward the forest with them. Others chose to scramble back to their cars and hightail it out of there. Several automobiles crashed into one another, clogging up the exit.
The spider made quick work of them. It picked them up two at a time and heaved them into the highway. They spilled into the quarry in mangled heaps of metal and flame. A couple of pickup trucks were able to accelerate through the ditches on either side of the exit and come up the other side safely. They hit the gas and sped away in opposite directions.
Dylan and Sheila ran on. So did the others. They dipped down into a ravine. Some of the moviegoers hid in the trees or in bushes.
The spider turned around and scuttled into the woods after them all. Fire and blood and screams replaced the late-night kisses, the smack of gum and caramel getting stuck to teeth. The spider sliced left, sliced right, its sword-like legs orchestrating a vicious death hymn.
The young couple found an old stone wall and crawled behind it.
KOOF! KOOF KOOF KOOF! The spider neared.
Sheila bumped into the wall while backing into it. Somehow, Ray Lamontagne’s voice – and those happy guitars – broke the silence.
Dylan looked at her, wide-eyed.
The arachnid drove two of its legs straight down, through the wall.
The two young lovers never made a peep. Their bodies were crushed beneath the rubble, impaled by vicious metal. They died doing what they loved best: getting scared.
The spider turned, moved away, and continued its hunt.
Ray Lamonagne’s “Drive-in Movies” popped up as I was listening to music one night, and as soon as I heard the song, I knew I’d write my story for Death Knell Press about a drive-in movie theater. The light song and dark scene felt like they belonged together.
If you have an extra few minutes, give the song a listen!
Also…have you ever been to a drive-in movie theater? Where was it? What did you watch?
Thanks so much for reading my stories, “liking” them, and commenting. You all make this a lot of fun.
Fifties by the Fire
Our bi-weekly fifty-word story challenges have been a blast. I’ve enjoyed reading everyone’s pieces, and I hope you have, too. It’s always wonderful to see someone new join in.
This week’s thread will be posted on Friday, February 17, at 3:00 PM EST.
Prompt: Write a fifty-word story (or work of CNF, or poem) that incorporates “Blue Valentine” into the piece, somehow. Valentine’s Day is a rather warm-hearted celebration during the particularly cold month of February. Perhaps two lovers share a warm embrace out in the cold? Or maybe a warm interaction melts an individual’s once-cold heart? Any interpretation of the prompt words are fair game. Happy writing!
Same guidelines as always.
Have a great week, and see you by the fire on Friday!
(And, as always, thanks to John Lightle for the back-and-forth brainstorm with this prompt!)
I grew up in the drive-in era, so I went to a lot of them as a kid. Usually in my pajamas. With popcorn my Mom had made. And the horrible speakers you hung from your window. They mostly died off by my 20s.
Fortunately, there were no giant metal spiders. 🤣
Good story. I loved this line:
"The two scream-sang the joyous, melodic tune as the wind whipped through the old Subaru Outback."
I have fond memories of drive in movies from when was a kid in the 70's. I even went once on my motorcycle.