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I wrote this in about 45 minutes! Hope you enjoy! It's an original!
The Ice Cream Truck Man
I had always wondered about the white, generic ice cream truck that would cruise around the state of northeastern Michigan. It would play that feel good ice cream truck music as it passed. It would be the music that basically all ice cream trucks had. But, this ice cream truck in particular would play the music backwards. And, this ice cream truck wasn’t any normal one, either. My mother and father had told me to stay away from the ice cream truck, as it was driven by a dangerous man. As a stupid teenager, I didn’t listen to their warnings.
One day, I was watching my little brother, whom was four years old. He heard the distorted, calm music playing backwards on the ice cream truck. I was kind of wondering about the low volume of the distorted music, kind of how it seemed like he didn’t want to cause THAT much attention to himself. I gave my little brother some money and told him that if he wanted ice cream, he’d have to go get it himself. I was lazy and my little brother was naive at the time, of people and the things they could do. Therefore, he didn’t have a problem with it. He stumbled onto the driveway with his little train pajamas, the kind that was full body and had the little footies. His eager eyes and small smile to get that one ice cream bar. I was feeling a little worried about him going out by himself, so I decided to watch from the window. The ice cream truck stopped in front of my little brother as his tiny, blue eyes scanned the menu. He pointed to the item he wanted and he gave him the five dollars I had given him. I started to go outside maybe to get a cone of my own. I grabbed five bucks off of the counter and came outside. At the edge of my driveway, I saw my brother, ice cream bar in hand as the man invited him onto the truck. I quickly rushed to the vehicle. I knew exactly what this man was trying to do. The ice cream truck man was staring my brother down with a grin. I screamed, “Hey!” at him to look at me. I couldn’t see his face but I saw his grin turn into a frown as he closed the door to the truck and spend off. There was no license plate on the back of the vehicle. I ran over to my brother and cried and hugged him. I swore never for him to leave my sight again.
I didn’t tell my parents, I couldn’t. They would ground me forever. They came home and everything seemed fine. My brother didn’t say anything; he most likely didn’t even know that the ice cream truck man was trying to harm him. Everything seemed fine, until the evening. I was sitting in the living room, watching the news with my father. A report came on saying that an FBI most wanted man driving around Michigan in an ice cream truck was capturing children and killing them. I froze right then and there and ran upstairs to my laptop. My dad didn’t question me, he was too involved talking to someone on the phone about work. I went on Google and saw the latest news. There were pictures of the ice cream truck and it was the exact same one that was going to take my four year old brother. I saw that on a lesser known article that the man was eating and mutilating the victims, usually while they were still alive. There were four victims so far. The first victim was eleven years old, the second was seven, the third was nine, and the fourth was five. It was notified that if you saw this man, you should report him to local police. I shut off my laptop.
Weeks past, June went into late July and nothing else occurred of this man. Four victims remained at four victims. Then one day, my friend was hosting a party in his secluded neighborhood. Not really secluded, I mean it was a decent sized neighborhood but it was in the middle of nowhere. There were about six people there. All six of us were friends. My mom stayed home with my little brother and my father was at work and I was at this party. Everything was fine. We swam, laughed, and played some pool volleyball. Fun times. We got out a few hours later and I was the last one to dry off. I told everyone not to wait for me because I needed to find my phone. They all went inside and after I few minutes, I found my phone. I went through the gate to get to the front door when I heard a familiar song. The ice cream truck man or should I say, the ice cream truck killer, whom was coming down the street.
I ran inside and grabbed the pocket knife sitting near the front door. My friend had often joked about how his mom was a freak for security and that, if anything every happened to grab the knife and protect yourself with it. It was in case of emergency and this was an emergency. I was about to kill the sick rat who’d tried to eat and mutilate my brother. I’d never used a pocket knife before so I pulled out all the separate knifes. I settled on the largest, sharpest one of the bunch and shut the door, slowly. I didn’t want to let anyone know what I was doing, but they’d probably know soon enough.
I crept outside with the knife behind my back. As the man was very close to my friend’s house, I crouched and made it seem like I was a child of the age of six or seven. I was far away so hopefully the man would see it and fall for it. The man slowed down. This was it. I was about to kill one of the FBI most wanted. I came closer to the truck, hiding the knife behind me and trying to seem like I was a few feet shorter than what I really was. I was about twenty feet away and I saw the man’s grin. It was familiar and for a moment, my heart stopped. I told myself that it was alright and to keep going and that everything would be fine. I wouldn’t get hurt, I would hurt someone who’d hurt so many other innocent children.
I’d gotten closer and I saw the man’s face. I dropped the knife in shock and it slashed the back of my leg as it fell to the ground. I stood up to my normal height. The ice cream truck man didn’t drive away, he looked into my eyes and I looked into his as I greeted him, “Hi, Dad.”
The Ice Cream Truck Man
I had always wondered about the white, generic ice cream truck that would cruise around the state of northeastern Michigan. It would play that feel good ice cream truck music as it passed. It would be the music that basically all ice cream trucks had. But, this ice cream truck in particular would play the music backwards. And, this ice cream truck wasn’t any normal one, either. My mother and father had told me to stay away from the ice cream truck, as it was driven by a dangerous man. As a stupid teenager, I didn’t listen to their warnings.
One day, I was watching my little brother, whom was four years old. He heard the distorted, calm music playing backwards on the ice cream truck. I was kind of wondering about the low volume of the distorted music, kind of how it seemed like he didn’t want to cause THAT much attention to himself. I gave my little brother some money and told him that if he wanted ice cream, he’d have to go get it himself. I was lazy and my little brother was naive at the time, of people and the things they could do. Therefore, he didn’t have a problem with it. He stumbled onto the driveway with his little train pajamas, the kind that was full body and had the little footies. His eager eyes and small smile to get that one ice cream bar. I was feeling a little worried about him going out by himself, so I decided to watch from the window. The ice cream truck stopped in front of my little brother as his tiny, blue eyes scanned the menu. He pointed to the item he wanted and he gave him the five dollars I had given him. I started to go outside maybe to get a cone of my own. I grabbed five bucks off of the counter and came outside. At the edge of my driveway, I saw my brother, ice cream bar in hand as the man invited him onto the truck. I quickly rushed to the vehicle. I knew exactly what this man was trying to do. The ice cream truck man was staring my brother down with a grin. I screamed, “Hey!” at him to look at me. I couldn’t see his face but I saw his grin turn into a frown as he closed the door to the truck and spend off. There was no license plate on the back of the vehicle. I ran over to my brother and cried and hugged him. I swore never for him to leave my sight again.
I didn’t tell my parents, I couldn’t. They would ground me forever. They came home and everything seemed fine. My brother didn’t say anything; he most likely didn’t even know that the ice cream truck man was trying to harm him. Everything seemed fine, until the evening. I was sitting in the living room, watching the news with my father. A report came on saying that an FBI most wanted man driving around Michigan in an ice cream truck was capturing children and killing them. I froze right then and there and ran upstairs to my laptop. My dad didn’t question me, he was too involved talking to someone on the phone about work. I went on Google and saw the latest news. There were pictures of the ice cream truck and it was the exact same one that was going to take my four year old brother. I saw that on a lesser known article that the man was eating and mutilating the victims, usually while they were still alive. There were four victims so far. The first victim was eleven years old, the second was seven, the third was nine, and the fourth was five. It was notified that if you saw this man, you should report him to local police. I shut off my laptop.
Weeks past, June went into late July and nothing else occurred of this man. Four victims remained at four victims. Then one day, my friend was hosting a party in his secluded neighborhood. Not really secluded, I mean it was a decent sized neighborhood but it was in the middle of nowhere. There were about six people there. All six of us were friends. My mom stayed home with my little brother and my father was at work and I was at this party. Everything was fine. We swam, laughed, and played some pool volleyball. Fun times. We got out a few hours later and I was the last one to dry off. I told everyone not to wait for me because I needed to find my phone. They all went inside and after I few minutes, I found my phone. I went through the gate to get to the front door when I heard a familiar song. The ice cream truck man or should I say, the ice cream truck killer, whom was coming down the street.
I ran inside and grabbed the pocket knife sitting near the front door. My friend had often joked about how his mom was a freak for security and that, if anything every happened to grab the knife and protect yourself with it. It was in case of emergency and this was an emergency. I was about to kill the sick rat who’d tried to eat and mutilate my brother. I’d never used a pocket knife before so I pulled out all the separate knifes. I settled on the largest, sharpest one of the bunch and shut the door, slowly. I didn’t want to let anyone know what I was doing, but they’d probably know soon enough.
I crept outside with the knife behind my back. As the man was very close to my friend’s house, I crouched and made it seem like I was a child of the age of six or seven. I was far away so hopefully the man would see it and fall for it. The man slowed down. This was it. I was about to kill one of the FBI most wanted. I came closer to the truck, hiding the knife behind me and trying to seem like I was a few feet shorter than what I really was. I was about twenty feet away and I saw the man’s grin. It was familiar and for a moment, my heart stopped. I told myself that it was alright and to keep going and that everything would be fine. I wouldn’t get hurt, I would hurt someone who’d hurt so many other innocent children.
I’d gotten closer and I saw the man’s face. I dropped the knife in shock and it slashed the back of my leg as it fell to the ground. I stood up to my normal height. The ice cream truck man didn’t drive away, he looked into my eyes and I looked into his as I greeted him, “Hi, Dad.”
