Short Ghost Stories: The Man with the Axe in his Back

Ma looked up, following the direction of her boy’s finger. She frowned, her face only a metre or so from its feet—the feet wearing those laced up little black leather shoes, much like the ones her boy was wearing.

‘What you talking about, Casey? There ain’t nothing up there but tree branches. Don’t you be making up nonsense now! Hurry up and get a move on!’

The little boy’s finger faltered. His fate had been sealed. From that day forth, he knew he would be walking this shady little lane to and from school. He would do all this beneath the hanging shadow of it, whether he wanted to or not. All his protests died, and he obediently trudged forward, following the large bulk of his mother as they both walked towards the light at the end of the lane—away from it, but not truly.

*****

Casey and his mother walked that path twice a day for the next three years. Occasionally she would be replaced by his uncle, a big-boned, jovial man who encouraged Casey to keep in good spirits. With his jokes and laughter, he added a bit of light to that shady little lane, the one that Casey loathedto walk through.

Whether rain or hail, sleet or snow, it was always there, silently waiting for him. As the years went by, he grew familiar with it—with its mangy head and the strange humanoid body which so resembled his own. The effect was jarring and repulsive—the body of a young boy wearing a Halloween mask, not of a skeleton or of Frankenstein, but of a dog-like face with a pointy snout and raggedy ears. On top of that, the body hovered three metres off the ground, bound to a tree branch above it by a thick sinew of rope. Each time Casey had to walk under its shadow, he shuddered at the chilly gust of air that always seemed to linger in its wake.

One day, his uncle noticed his shivering.

Casey had long given up telling anyone else about it. He’s heard stories about unspeakable, ungodly creatures that only children could see, but he definitely was the only person who could see it. A few older children walked the same shady lane to and from school, in knots of twos or threes, but no one ever raised their head to point at the swinging corpse that always hung there. Casey knew that he was alone in that regard, and friendless.

‘Why you shivering, Casey?’ His uncle asked.

‘It’s nothing, uncle.’

Casey didn’t stop walking, his feet moving like twin motors. He and his uncle were walking home from school, and whenever he walked through that shady little lane, he always gritted his teeth and powered through it non-stop. He yearned for the light at the end of the corridor, and tried to blot all else from his mind.

‘You cold? It’s a balmy day.’

‘Yes.’ Casey murmured in reply. He always spoke in whispers whenever it was in the vicinity, lest it listened in on his conversations. Besides, his uncle would never understand.

Casey’s uncle suddenly propelled his body in front of Casey, his muscular bulk blocking much of the path, and most of the light. Casey drew a sharp breath and stopped; he was now trapped between his uncle and it, and he could feel the creeping coldness from its shadow reaching out to run a bony finger down his spine.

But his uncle only kneeled down in front of Casey, gripping his shoulders in those big, warm hands. His uncle’s face then beamed; giving a wide, sunny smile that almost compensated for the loss of light.

‘I know you got trouble at school, Casey. It was like that for me too, when I was your age.’ His uncle said. Casey listened in silence, forgetting the eerie presence of the dog-faced it for once.

‘Grow big, Casey. Grow big, and strong like me. You will one day, and when you do, you got nothing to worry about. Not from anyone. Okay?’

Casey nodded mutely, feeling an unfamiliar lift in his heart. His uncle’s warmth was reassuring, and it was momentarily able to banish all thoughts of the unsettling it from his little world. Casey slipped his hand into his uncle’s, and the two of them continued their walk home.

*****

More years went by, and Casey did grow big and strong, just as his uncle bid him do. He grew upwards a few inches, but more so, grew sideways more than a few inches. His flesh bulged from his shorts and T-shirt, slapping together as he walked through the school playground, eyes downcast as usual. All around him, he could hear the thunder of his footsteps with each step he took, and the cruel sea of titters that would follow him from one end of the school to the other.

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