In those dark places of the human mind waits a terror of the new and the unknown.

The van was abandoned late one night. No one knew until little Timmy Johansenes bicycled past it.

Why was it there? What could it mean?

Was it a plot? A plan? A devious device?

Why, they wondered, was that van there?

Some had heard that it was left by murderers who were hiding in the town.

Others had heard it was an experiment by the Army.

Old Man Graebel said it was just a van that broke down but who ever listened to that ranting Old Man Graebel?

Passions flared. Rumors spread fears and fears spread rumors. The two spun about, a dog chasing it’s own tail.

They town couldn’t abide that travesty anymore.

They met outside the store with their guns. Peter Wilnsk demanded action. Everyone agreed. Pamela Nombert told how she dreaded every moment her children were outside because she didn’t know what the van would do.

The crowd, the whole town, armed well enough to stop a small army, sped off in their cars, their trucks, on their horses, and Crazy Joe bounced along on a pogo stick carrying a shiny balloon.

They stopped at the van and their hatred dripped into the Earth. Grasses died, animals choked and writhed in agony. The moon darkened. T

he van silently mocked them. Glimmering from the light of the torches the townsfolk carried, it hid it’s mysteries.

Peter Wilnsk aimed and everyone aimed with him. They fired as one as if the finger of God had pulled a trigger.

They really hated that van.