Stan the man in the van

The rumbling of the van over the stones in the driveway shook Stan awake. He was inside a dark smooth cloth prison. As he fought more, the sides of the bag closed in tighter until he was no longer able to move. He had vacuum sealed himself into submission. He could blink his eyes for now, but even that movement seemed to be drawing the sides of the bag in on him even more. Closing his eyes, Stan gives in to what must be certain death until he feels himself tipping over and slam into the inside wall of the van.

A small tear forms near his face and a stream of light falls on Stan's face. A noise like that of a passing airplane can be heard and he takes it to be the sound death must make upon crossing over. The tear is letting air in little by little and his arms are able to fan out more and more space to move.


Stan reaches towards the light as souls are instructed to do in the movies. A cool breeze greets him as he tears open the bag and tumbled to the rough tan carpeting in the back of the van. He never imagined heaven could look so tacky and dirty. Heaven's image was renewed upon the sound of a hissing coming from behind him. He turned just in time to see a small block of wood at the end of a small handle passing towards him at a great speed.


Scrambling for safety, Stan's foot catches in the velvet bag he just escaped. Stan's footing gives way from under him. The bag slips out from his foot and launches into the air connecting with the wooden stamp. Stan rolls over as he lands in time to witness light emanating from the point of contact before the bag disintegrated into a pile of dust.


The air begins to vibrate like a tuning fork as the stamp begins to glow for moment afterwards and then cools until it appears just hot to touch. The red outline in the area reads "OVERDUE" in reverse. Stan covers his ears as the ringing ends with a sudden burst as if a great vacuum void has just been filled in a rush of air.


"Damn it. That was an expensive bag." Each letter seems to be whispered yet carries as if the voice is directly in Stan's ear. From his corner in the back of the van, Stan can only see the arm retract and the van's sliding door close from the outside. The world comes back into focus when Stan hears the van door make the same whooshing plane over head sound he heard while in the bag.

A moment later a round spot of black smoke forms in the wall of the van near where Stan is sitting. He recognizes what is happening a moment before the glowing stamp comes through the cloud and narrowly misses his right shoulder.


He swings out to grab the arm, but his hands pass through as if it were some attacking apparition. The arms retracts and is gone before another smoke hole opens from the back doors. This time, Stan doesn't need to move as the strike is well off the mark and the stamp slams into the wheel well instantly turning the van into dust. The carpet does not dematerialize which is a blessing to Stan as it saves him from falling naked into the driveway of stones.


"Sit still!" The hissing is back in his ear, but this time it really is behind him. Stan quickly grabs the frayed end of the carpet formerly lining the van and begins to roll himself up for protection. The stamp strike the carpet beneath his armpit causing Stan scream and swing wildly this time connecting with the butt of the stamp and knocking it to the ground.


Now lying in a nude heap in the stones, Stan reaches out his hands to return to a kneel when he realizes his hand now rests on the handle of the stamp that thing used to turn the bag and van to dust. This new found weapon gives him a slight feeling of control until he finds himself in a dark green headlock fighting to maintain this new control.


"Why are you doing this to me?" Stan cries out in muffled breathes as his air supply dwindles.


"It is the way of things. Things must begin and things must end in their correct time. I failed to set your final date at birth and now I must right the situation if I ever want to get back to my true job again." The hissing and the throbbing of his blood in his ears begins to make Stan dizzy. Beginning to lose his balance, he reaches up to the arm holding him to keep himself standing forgetting he still has the stamp in hand.


There is a clicking noise as Stan's grip on the handle bumps the switch that must have caused the light he saw previously. The sizzling sound in his ear is deafening for the second it is there and then he is huddled on the ground lying on an empty robe. His green captor is nowhere to be seen. Rising to his feet, he feels the find in his damp hair from sweat and begins to feel the cooling breeze in far too many places for being out in public.

Turning from left to right and spinning slowly counter clockwise, Stan sees nothing but large mountains of stone and a path from which the van must have entered. He recognizes the Slater Sand & Stone yards from his trips down I-83. He was taken about five miles outside of town and the wind has gone from cooling to freezing now that he's been standing in the buff for ten minutes taking in all that had happened. Stan reaches down for the robe beneath him and tosses it on after the green dust has fallen out from the inside. He tosses the stamp into the pocket he finds inside and begins the long walk back to Parkwood.