The Haloween Melee | By: Andrew | | Category: Short Story - Horror Bookmark and Share

The Haloween Melee

type story here

The crowd noise was somewhat distracting to Tyrone Blevins as he tried desperately to call the play for his teammates in the huddle.
It was a cool,Halloween night as he noticed a slight misty fog hangingover the field. By late in the fourth quater, the ghastly mist had decended near the field.
The six-one, two hundred and five pound, senior quaterback was a well-sought-after prospect in the pack ten confrence for the last two seasons. Not only did he have 1650 yards rushing under his belt for this tenth and final game of the regular season, but he also led the region in passing yards as he was ranked second in the state of Nebraska in terms of high school quaterbacks. Tyrone knew what it took to win the past nine games of Central High School in Johnsonville, Nebraska.
The Division Four school, which had a student body of around two thousand, was considered large by any standards. Even though Johnsonville only had a population of thirteen thousand, this small midwestern town was well known around the state for producing quality college bound athletes in various veneus of sports.
Football was different in the eyes of the population of Johnsonville. Every home gamewould draw at least seven to eight thousand Wildcat fans cheering their home team to numerous victories. Even on this night, on their opponent's field, the Wildcat fans were in the thousands as they loved their Wildcats.
The string of victories is not only from recent times, but they go back at least fifteen years since the consolidation of two local high schools who were bitter rivals in their day. The consolidation was not received well by the general public at first; however, with the merging of two tough football teams, it resulted in a region powerhouse that other teams respected.
Not ever season over the past fifteen years had been glorious but the wins greatly out number the losses. No one would forget the three state championship wins which earned them the reputation as "the team to beat."

Tyrone Blevins briefly glanced up over the helments of his offensive linemen. He checked the scoreboard and time through the foggy mist on the opposite end of the field. The fact that his team was trailing by eight points from an obvious underdog team, and only fifty -one seconds left in the game did not help things in terms of focusing on a back to back regular undefeated seasons. Tyrone was not used to this situation and had not seen such urgency since the eight game of his sophomore year when the Wildcats lost to Pinewood Indians, whom they pulverized earlier this season.
Not since his freshmen year, had they been to a state final. They had not won a state championship in five years before then and each year therafter would go deep into the playoffs. When Tyrone became the starting quterback in his sophomore year, his team was heavily favored to win the crown only to come up short over the past two seasons, being stopped in the semi-finals. Tyrone was not about to let that happen again, especially in his last year as a Wildcat. The seventeen year-old senior would never let his team and coach down no matter what the situation was.

"Flank left! Right end, sideline and go! ready, break!" Tyrone said nearly screaming above the home crowd of their opponet.

The jubliant masses of the underdog team, which were fittingly called the Bulldogs, made it hard for Tyrone to concentrate on the remaining seconds with no more time-outs.
The ball was on their own thirty-five yard line and was third down. If it came to the dreaded fourth down, punting was out of the question. They could not rely on their junior field goal kicker since he was out with an ankle sprain. Their only back-up kicker was marginal past the twenty yard line. It was becoming a do or die situation. Yes, they would still go to the playoffs, but in Tyrone's eyes, it would be unacceptable with even one loss.

As he approached behind the center, he quickly remembered how many times he promised Coach Patton that he would lead the team to a perfect season all the way to the championship. Tyrone had alot on his shoulders as he was taged with the title of "Most Valuable Player" for six games this season. This game was different. Tyrone had only completed twelve passes out of twenty-eight attempts and only rushed for forty-three yards-his worst since becoming a starter. The low score, thirteen to twenty-one would reflect that. Had it not been for his tail back and full back, they would have nothing on the board. The missed extra point after the last touchdown made things interesting to say the least.
With the fog, mist and the fact that it was Halloween, Tyrone wondered if an omen was present. Omen or not, it was clearly an upset in the making!
Tyrone had a wierd feeling about this day since he woke up. At the afternoon pep-rally he remembered having a sick feeling that something just wasn't right.

As Tyrone waited for his line to get in position, he had a sudden flashback of his late grandmother telling him about her special ability to see the presence of evil. he recalled her telling him about her seeing a bluish white mist on several occasions when something horrible was happening of about to happen. As he remembered that visit to Baton-Rouge, visions of his late grandmother and her conversations began to run through his head. He thought of her claim to have a certain spiritual gift to discern evil and the ability to experience premonitions as she would credit her God for the episodes. She had told Tyrone when he was younger; she sensed his ability to have the same trait. She had "felt it in his heart" she said, as she laid her hands on him for a prayer. She claimed it was a special gift that had been passed down through generations that came from their african ancestry.

Tyrone backed up behind the center befor the ball was snaped. He checked off with both of his receivers as well as the left flank.

"Tyrone! Tyrone! The voice yelled in his head.
Tyrone shook his head slightly as he got into position. He could still hear the voice above te roaring crowd and stomping feet.

"Get off of the field, Tyrone! Hurry!" the voice said.
Tyrone felt slightly dizzy as his heart began to pound. He shook his head again as he tried to focus on the play.

I'm going to do this! he thought.

The ball was snapped. The sounds of helments crashing along the line made Tyrone realize that a blitz was on the way. The left outside linebacker and the right defensive end were approching from both sides.
Where was the blocking? he quickly thought as he scaned the sidelines for his target. The crowd grew silent as the anticipation of the pass drew near.
Tyrone scrambled to his right side then left as he felt the Bulldog's linebacker grab his jersey. He broke free from the linebacker's grasp and continued to scramble to his left. He scaned the opposite side of the field hoping his flanker was nearing the sideline for a pass that would stop the clock at the first down marker. He was nowhere to be found! Tyrone heard the sound of the defensive end coming up from behind as he scaned the field one last time for a receiver.

Somebody botched the play! he thought
At that time, he felt a crushing blow to his right shoulder as the defensive end made a clean hit on his right side. As Tyrone was falling to te ground, in the clutch of his opponent, he felt the ball bobble in his hands. It was a fumble! The ball was loose! There was a mad scramble as the home crowd went wild! All Tyrone could see, was a dark shade of the grass below his facemask, as te weight of the lineman lay on top of him. He was poerless as he heard the sound of cleats and players racing toward the Wildcat's sideline for the ball.
Where was the whistle! He thought.
Please God, let one of our guys fall on the ball!
Tyrone could tell it was mayhem as each player's pads and helmets smacked together in a pile. Tyrone wondered how many seconds ticked away on the botched play.
A whistle was heard. The play had stopped. The crowd grew silent again as they waited for a signal from the referee on which team recovered the ball. Two of the officials were digging through the pile of players to see who had possession of the ball. Coach Patton and the rest of the staff and players were excidedly jumpinmg up and down indicating that the Wildcats retained possession of the ball.
Tyrone slowly lifted his head as his tackler rolled off of him. He could see the pile of players just ten feet from where he was plowed under and lost the ball. He felt a sence of bitter-sweet relief as one of his own players had been close enough to recover his mistake.
The referee emerged from the pile and pointed in the direction indicating that the Bulldogs had recovered the fumble! The crowd went into hysteria! This was a game that was supposed to be an easy win, even on the Bulldog's home field! But wait! Why did the oficial indicate that a Bulldog player had recovered the fumble, when the Wildcat's coaching staff and players must have seen one of their own who fell on the ball?
Two yellow flags flew in the direction of the Wildcat's bench. The fifty-eight year-old Coach Patton, had made a remark at oneof the officials that drew the yellow colors. Immediatly, to Bulldog players had taunted the Wildcat's sideline which drew no flag.
As the tensions increased, two of the Wildcat's players came off of the bench to confront the opposing team's players that taunted.
Tyrone jumped up and ran over to the white-hat official.

"What's going on?" Tyrone asked in desperation.
"Blue ball!" was all the offical would reply, indicating dominate blue colors of the Bulldogs.
More shoving ensued. Flags were everywhere as obscenities were filling the misty air on this late October night. Water bottles began to fly out on the field from some upset Wildcat fans.
Four players were shoved to the ground from the opposing team. Immediatelt the Wildcat coaching staff took to the field, trying to seperate the players.

"Tyrone! Get out of there!" The voice said.

Tyrone shook his head again as he ignored the warning.
A few seconds later, Tyrone was blindsided from the backside as one of the Bulldog palyers rammed into his right knee, ripping his ACL and crusing the bone.
Tyrone collasped in excruciating pain.
Soon, the benches from both teams cleared as they raced to mid field clashing with one another. Some fans from the Bulldogs began to charge the field, trying to antagonize the Wildcat fans.
The head referee blew his whistle, waved his arms and called an end to the game with only twenty-seven seconds left. Two Wildcat assistant coaches charged the referee and shoved him to the ground.
Tyrone could not belive what was happening as he lay on the ground clutching his shattered knee. The situation was going from bad to worse. It was becoming a nightmare! Players were fighting, parents were charging the field concerned about te safety of their players. Some of te parents began to fight with other parents of the opposite teams.
Tyrone could hear some of his own players grown in pain as they were thrown on the ground and kicked repeatedly.
The cool nigh air became filled with the shouts and primal screams of anger throughout the stadium on this Halloween night. What started out as a typical high school football game led into a chaotic scene of ugliness and sin as if the devil himself was sitting in the press box directing the event on the loud speaker!
Tyrone screamed in pain as some of the Bulldog players had begun to kick him in his ribs. His ankle had popped as someone stomped on his right leg, shattering another bone into fragments.
Tyrone looked up at the player who had most likly ended his high school football career and possibly his chances of playing college and pro.
Tyrone did not know the player but he immediatly knew what was in the player's eyes. He had never seen anything like it in his seventeen years as a human being. It was rage! It was hate! It was evil! It was if the young man was being directed by an outside force bent on destroying every dream Tyrone had of becoming a professional football player.
Gunshots rang out! Who would bring a pistol to a highschool football game?
The police had taken the field trying to break up the warring parties. Fans were down! Players were down! Some of the coaching staff from both teams were down! Nowhere in the history of high school sports had an event happened such as this. There was blood everywhere as some of the fans and players lay motionless on the field. It was mayhem!
The fighting continued out into the parking lot and into the streets of Johnsonville. Cars were overturned. Store windows were broken! Looting was rampant!
After about half an hour, which seemed much longer, the local police as well as the state police began to have some control of the crowd. Two ambulances rolled slowly out on the field for paramedics to assist the injured.
As Tyrone lay withering in pain from his injuries, he noticed the foggy mist leaving the stadium as it eerily rose above the lighs. People were walking around with stunned faces. Some of the players who had not been injured during the melee were looking confused as they wondered around.
Tyrone heard someone yell to a medic about several of the fans being stabbed and shot. They were motionless on the field.
A edic rushed over to where Tyrone was lying. His parents soon followed.

"My knee! My foot!" Tyrone yelled.

The medic knelt down and accessed the injury. Tyrone noticed the expression on the young woman's face that his injuries were bad. His dadknelt down and grasped his son's hand.

"It will be ok, son. hang in there." His father said.
"What happened? What happened to everyone? Tyrone asked.

Tyrone's father, a forty-six year-old business owner, just shook his head. "I don't know, son. The violence just escalated. I have never seen anything like it and I hope I never will again."
"The mist! It was the mist!, Dad!" Tyrone said between gasps of breath.
His father look puzzled as he gazed up at his wife.
"What mist, Tyrone?" his mother asked.
"Didn't you see it? It was over the field, especially in the second half!" Tyrone answered.
"It was a clear night, son. There wasn't a cloud in the sky." His father answered as he looked up at the paramedic. "You just try to relax, Tyrone. You will be fine, soon."
Tyrone gritted his teeth as the paramedic splinted his shattered knee. He then gazed up at the clear, night sky and noticed an abundance of stars.

The End
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