Creepypastas

Fear Not The Shadows

My name was Private Charles Lee Locod, I enlisted back in '67 for the U.S. Army. I traded my fiancée for a rifle, my home for a tent, and three years of my life for someone else. Some men kill to live; I was one of those men. Though I don't think I ever actually killed anyone, at least I did my best not to. Then there are men who live to kill, men like Sergeant Stevens. He was a back woods Carolina man who took pleasure in each gruesome act. The last I saw him was a few days ago when he waved me goodbye as I got on the bird. Good riddance.

After a year of crawling through the jungle dirt I finally earned my way home, I was one of the lucky ones, unlike so many others that fought in that country but didn't make it back. I was just so glad to finally be rid of Stevens. That man was a psychotic, gun-ho high-speed death machine. He once told me when I first met him, "Son, my count is 23 and all I felt was the recoil of my rifle." Like I said, psychotic.

To his credit, after two years of killing, it finally got to him. Three weeks before I left 'Nam, he told me he wished he could be more like me. He wished he could undo the things he had done. He wished he could go back in time and stop himself. I told him, "Look Stevens, I know you hate yourself, but there's still time to change the road you're on." If I remember correctly, I told him that right before he ordered me to storm that tunnel. All I really remember from that is a loud bang and watching Stevens pull me out with tears in his eyes.

After I got myself off base, I made my way to the bus depot in Tenino. I was supposed to wait for a ride to take me back home to New York. Why didn't I just ride a bird to New York? Don't ask me, ask Uncle Sam.

So I get to the depot and find out my ride is running a few hours late, I hadn't a bite to eat since I left country so I made myself across the street to a small diner. I ordered a big steak with a side of eggs. The waitress took my order and gave me a strange look. "Would you like a different chair?" she asked. I must have been fidgeting a little, it isn't a great feeling when sharp war mementos are moving around in your pockets.

After I finished my steak and eggs, the waitress comes back over with a bottle of coke, she says, "I want you to have this, for your service." My mind flashed back to 'Nam when we came across this piss poor village along the Perfume River, a little girl runs up to me, smiles, and hands me a bottle of coke, she says something in her native tongue and walks off. I pull off the cap and am about to take a swig when Stevens slaps the bottle out of my hand. It then falls and breaks against the rocky road.

"Why'd you do that?" I ask. Stevens replies, "Buddy, I've seen this trick before, there's glass shards in that coke. One drink of that and you'll be bleeding inside." He then lifts his rifle, aims it at the girl, flips the safety switch, and fires. What happens after is hard to recall, Lieutenant Higgins screams, "Stevens what the hell is wrong with you?" The young girl's mother rushes to her bloody corpse with tears streaking down her weathered face. Stevens then raises his rifle again and fires at the women.

I snapped back to reality and the waitress was looking at me with a puzzled expression. "No thanks ma'am." I said in urgency. She then motions me just to take the bottle. "Damn it, I don't want your fucking coke!" I screamed. She then walked away still looking confused and a little sad.

After that little incident, I paid for my meal leaving a generous tip for the lady I insulted and headed back to the bus depot. Within a half hour, my bus arrived and I stepped aboard. The gray haired driver stood upon seeing my olive drab fatigues and greeted me with a firm handshake. "Welcome home son." he said in a thick southern accent. I took my seat at the end of the chrome charter, tossed my duffel bag in the seat in front of me, and reclined with my legs across the cushion hoping to catch some sleep.

To my surprise, as soon as I laid down the bus took off. I drew a deep relaxing breath and quickly drifted off to sleep. I had a nightmare. I was back home. Stevens and I are pulling night guard in the tower over-looking the gate. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "That's a nice lighter, mind if I look?" I ask. He hands it to me and I study it with my flashlight. It was a little hard to read the engraving with the red lens filter, but I was able to make out the phrase, "I fear not the shadows as I venture through the valley of death, for I am the most evil thing there." I laugh a little and ask, "Fear not the shadows? What's that supposed to mean?"