Hi, I’m Brian and I wrote this to tell you about an
experience I had. Three years ago during summer vacation I decided
to bike across Kansas. At the time I felt invincible and it seemed
like fun, so on the first day of summer break I signed up for a
bike-across-the-state event. It went well at first. The other
bikers and I had a great time. We joked, we laughed, and we told
funny stories. About a week later we were half way across Kansas
when I got separated from the rest of the group! I must have not
been paying attention and taken a wrong turn because I was way off
course.
Eventually I made it to a small backwoods town called
Glenndale. Exhausted, I stumbled into the local diner and ordered a
burger. As I was waiting for my food to come I over heard a group
of old men talking about “Reggie.” They said he walked the
backroads of the country killing people with his metal hand and
eating them. They said the only way to get away from him was to get
into a town. Thinking it was a bunch of hodgepodge, I paid the bill
and continued on my way. I had found out that the town two miles
from here was my bike group’s next destination, and if I hurried I
could catch up to them. That evening I set out for the the town on
a dirt road that would take me straight to my destination. I road
fast, not wanting to be caught out in the dark. About half way
there my bike hit something on the road and I flew over the
handles! I crashed to the ground winded and bruised. When I finally
got up I saw what I had crashed into: nails. The road was covered
in nails! I got up and looked around. Who would put nails on the
road? Then I saw it. There was a man in the distance behind me. He
wore a black trench coat and cowboy boots and his hair was long and
stringy. As the wind shifted towards me I could smell a foul odor.
It smelled like dirty socks and decay. Then I noticed his arm. He
wore a brace over his right arm and his hand was covered in a glove
with blades on the end of its fingers. I turned and ran down the
road. I could hear him behind me as I ran. He was faster then me
and was quickly gaining ground! Ahead of me was the city! I kept
running! I was almost safe! I don’t know what happened next, but I
tripped and crashed to the ground. I looked over my shoulder to see
him reaching for me: he was inches away but would not go any
closer. Then I remembered what the old man had said. “He won’t go
into town.” This was the first time I got a truly good look at him.
He was covered in scars and had sharp teeth. He also had tears in
his eyes. As I began to back away he started screaming at me in a
high off tune voice telling me not to go, to step closer. As I
turned and ran I heard him sobbing at the lost of his meal! I still
look over my shoulder sometimes, expecting him to be there ready to
claim his lost prize! 
