MASTER RACE

The moon bathed the van in resplendent light.
The van’s exhaust purred like some sabre tooth cat sizing up its’ hapless prey.
Boyd faltered in his step, unsure of whether to pass the van or head again in the direction of home.

The van remained stationary.
Boyd strained to see the occupant, but after squinting at the van for what seemed like an age, he realised the windows were the black out type.
The onyx reflections only added to the menacing aspect of the vehicle.

He’d seen a dozen crappy horror movies where the bad guys had turned up in a blacked out van, car or truck like this one.
But most of these had been cruising the backwoods of middle- America…the likelihood of Jeepers Creepers arriving in the north of England were pretty slim.

Boyd spat out the remains of his cigarette and moved again – he was being a dick!
It was probably just some wise-arsed kid looking for girls to leer at.
As he walked past the van, he began to hum “Jeepers Creepers” to himself.
Yeah, he was just being a dick!

‘Jeepers Creepers’

He was past the van.

‘Where’d you get those peepers?’

It still hadn’t moved.

‘Jeepers Creepers’

He turned the corner onto New Court Road. The van was left behind.

‘Where’d you get those eyes?’