The Cannibals in the Curve

There is a legend about the curve outside of town.
It started back in the 1960's, when a group of teenagers vanished on the road, the car’s headlights still cutting into darkness, the doors left open to the cold wind…
...but no teenagers.
The police never found them, never found so much as a shred of evidence as to what happened to them. Naturally, this led to the legend: the legend of the cannibals in the curve. How it went, according to our school mates, was that the kids became victim to a group of flesh-eaters that inhabited the woods near the curve. The cannibals wore the teenagers’ flesh and clothes like a costume, cutting out eye-holes and their mouths in the shape of wide smiles, and stitching them back together with thick, black thread.
Kids repeated this to me and Peter as we walked home from school. I can still hear them chanting, “The cannibals in the curve. Watch out for the cannibals in the curve!â€
Peter lived down the road from me, and we spent our childhoods and teenage years together. He was a tall, broad-shouldered dude with a lot of hair. Meanwhile, I was short and scrawny. He was always defending me, growing up, even though he was more like a gentle giant than anything else.
Years passed.
We grew up.
Peter and I, we remained in contact, but real life got in the way and we didn’t get to see one another as much as either of us would have liked. When his sister, Kayla, disappeared, there was nothing else I could do but meet up with my long-time best friend. He invited me over to his house, which was a small apartment on Sparrow Street. It was cramped with items from his travels. I hadn’t really been expecting it to look the way it did.
We sat down on his sofa and he offered me a beverage. I declined, but he popped the top off a beer and began weaving his tale. “The last time I saw her,†he said, “she was happy. That’s what makes this so hard, man. She was really happy. About to get married—God, Rob is a mess—and she’s just…gone.â€
I waited, unsure of what to say. He continued: “And… And I can’t help but think of that damned road. The cannibals in the curve, Harvey. The cannibals in the curve.â€
“No,†I said. “There’s no way—I mean, that was just a story. It was made up by kids, Pete.â€
“I don’t understand,†Peter said, his drink abandoned on the coffee table. He cupped his forehead with one hand as if he had a headache. “Her doors were open. Her lights were on. Just like the legends.â€
“The police are looking--â€
“The police aren’t doing ****. They’re sitting around eating doughnuts and drinking coffee, Harvey. Just like the legends.â€
“Would it make you feel better if, y’know, you and I went looking for her?â€
The look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. We gathered up our equipment—flashlights—and headed out for the curve.
It was a cold, clear autumn evening. Windswept leaves scattered across the ground, crunching beneath our feet as we walked. We had two goals in mind—the first was to find Kayla. The second was to get out of there.
That was when we saw her.
Kayla, I mean.
Standing among the trees, her cropped blonde hair pulled by the wind, she looked just like the last time Peter had seen her, but there was something wrong. Like it was her, but it wasn’t.
Then she was running.
We took off after her, calling her name, but she seemed to run faster and faster with each passing minute. It would take us forever to catch up with her, I decided, and slowed to a halt. I turned to Peter, who was breathing heavily and bent over, trying to catch his breath.
“Pete,†I said. “I don’t think—whatever that is—I don’t think it’s your sister.â€
“What are you talkin’ about? It looks just like her.â€
“But something isn’t right.â€
“We made it this far. We’re not leaving without Kayla.â€
And I wasn’t leaving without Peter.
Deeper into the woods we went, shouting her name to the wind. In the distance, we heard laughter.
Peter picked up the pace. I lagged behind, exhausted by the chase.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to wait for me, I followed his lead and started jogging toward the sound. I found him crouched next to a boulder, hidden in its shadow. The laughter was louder. I didn’t speak.
There was a clearing in the woods. There was a house in the clearing. Inside the house was a group of people, all laughing like they were seeing the funniest thing on the planet. I started to say something to Peter, but his eyes were squeezed shut, and he was biting his lip so hard it was starting to bleed. I took matters into my own hands.
Approaching the house, I peered through the window and saw a single person. It was Kayla. She reached for something on her back—a shining silver zipper—and unzipped it. Shedding her skin and clothing like a snake, I realized what was happening.
I realized it wasn’t Kayla.
I realized it was someone else, someone who had inevitably sharp teeth, and a mask made of her face with eye-holes cut out where her pretty green eyes had been.
Most of all, I realized that sometimes, just sometimes…legends happen to be true.


Source.