{"id":2450567,"date":"2019-10-31T09:30:00","date_gmt":"2019-10-31T15:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.aspentimes.com\/?p=315307"},"modified":"2019-10-31T09:30:00","modified_gmt":"2019-10-31T15:30:00","slug":"writing-switch-horrors-from-hyman-avenue","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/local-news\/writing-switch-horrors-from-hyman-avenue\/","title":{"rendered":"Writing Switch: Horrors from Hyman Avenue"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n

Passing away \u2026 almost<\/p>\n

Ben: I don\u2019t talk to God until I need him. Nobody talks to Death until they\u2019re avoiding him.<\/p>\n

I curse them both as my wheels say f\u2014 it and skid through October snow and fishtail over the edge of the asphalt.<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody dies on Independence Pass,\u201d I reassure myself in slow motion, as tires shred and windshields shatter, recalling five years\u2019 worth of newspaper reports of miraculous #survivors.<\/p>\n

My last moments upon me, I try to concentrate on the people I love as my possessions fly from the trunk into the passenger seat.<\/p>\n

I draw a blank.<\/p>\n

The last thing I\u2019ll ever see is the giant S for Suzuki on the steering wheel as I wait for the airbag to fatally deploy (does Suzuki still make cars or are TVs good enough by now?) .<\/p>\n

At what point do I just unbuckle and bail? Or should I trust the suspension and seatbelt as I plummet into the Devil\u2019s Punchbowl?<\/p>\n

Come on, Ben, concentrate! Stay limp, like before you were seduced by unyielding ads for Roman!<\/p>\n

Oil pans rapture. The undercarriage takes a nick (dudes you feel me?). OnStar has been unsubscribed since 2012. I hit some debris and slam to a halt, like Sean trying to snowboard down the Cone Dumps after a couple of ski patrol avalanche detonations.  <\/p>\n

Like a phoenix aroused from the ashes, I crawl through the window and fall onto the ice and slush accumulated underneath. There\u2019s something surreal about smoke billowing from the hood and \u201cMr. Blue Sky\u201d still playing through the unhinged door and tinnitus.<\/p>\n

I jolt awake at Bruno\u2019s, the hockey bullhorn giving me flashbacks from when my domepiece slammed against the steering wheel 10 hours before. I used to think PTSD was made up, but as one who has been on Saint Peter\u2019s doorstep, stuffing guts back inside me while trying to hitch a ride into town, let me assure you that it is not.<\/p>\n

Well, honestly, I only had a couple of bruises and the tow truck driver was probably more traumatized than me, trying to extract my vehicle while precipitously parked on a slick, tight, blind curve, but whatever.<\/p>\n

Only the good die young, so I\u2019m pretty much guaranteed to be here for a while.<\/p>\n

The night of the skiing dead<\/p>\n

Sean: \u201cWhy are we here?\u201d John asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause if you want to do a hut trip, you have to know how to skin. Do you want to do a hut trip?\u201d Glenn replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot really.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a cold, blustery Friday evening in Aspen \u2014 the kind of night normally reserved for a glass of whiskey and a B-action movie. However, tonight was a special night as a full moon was out to shine the way up Tiehack for a lunar-lit uphill. Glenn and John \u2014 known for their love of all things downhill and hatred of cardio \u2014 were not prepared: a couple paltry layers, a half-charged vape pen, borrowed headlamps and a flask of brown.<\/p>\n

Peeved that the clouds held off, they began their ascent with 15 to 20 skinning enthusiasts. Intent on this climb sucking as little as possible, Glenn and John put their heads down and earbuds in and set off at the end of the single-file line.<\/p>\n

About halfway through the trek, a sudden wind picked up and almost blew Glenn and John over. As they steadied themselves against the bitter breeze, something seemed amiss. In all the fuss to concentrate on learning, the pair realized they were now leading the group. Confused, both men took out their headphones and waited for the uphillers to catch up.<\/p>\n

During the quick break and safety meeting, the wind started swirling snow around the two men. And once the snow died down, the headlamps of their crew were gone.<\/p>\n

A little freaked out, they decided to ski down in search of the lost members.<\/p>\n

After 20 turns in two minutes and a resurgence of wind, John came to violent stop near the edge of some aspen glades. His periphery picked up faint lights bobbing in the trees. The foliage sheltered them from the heavy winds, making it quiet enough to communicate.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think that\u2019s Dirk,\u201d Glenn said.<\/p>\n

He unclicked from his skis and started to trudge toward the headlamps. Relieved that he found the missing group of skiers, Glenn rapidly approached and put his arm around his friend Dirk. As Dirk reacted to Glenn\u2019s touch, Glenn looked down to see what the group was surrounding.<\/p>\n

Nobody responded to his question, but to be fair he didn\u2019t finish the query.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, what are you guys doi \u2014 OH MY GOD!\u201d The uphillers, once adorned in bright Patagonia and North Face puffys, were now splattered in blood, ripping at the flesh of a snowboarder. As he tried to pull away from Dirk, the man lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. Before he could scream for John to run, Dirk bit down on his throat. The last thing that went through Glenn\u2019s mind before \u201cEndorphins!\u201d was \u201cF\u2014 uphilling.\u201d<\/p>\n

John, refusing to posthole to \u201crescue\u201d the skiers and waiting for Glenn, noticed the ruckus and saw his friend thrashing, headlamp wildly shaking back and forth.<\/p>\n

John turned up the brightness on his headlamp and focused it on the group. As Dirk lifted his head to see where the light was coming from, John could faintly make out the figure, now sporting a red headlamp. After a second the light slowly changed back to white and John noticed it wasn\u2019t a different setting, it was blood funneling off Dirk\u2019s lamp.<\/p>\n

As fear shot up his spine, the other heads turned their focus to the bright light. Not waiting for the rabid skiers to make their move, John took off. He tucked and straightlined but the lights kept closing in.<\/p>\n

\u201cARRRRGHH!\u201d \u201cUPHILL!\u201d \u201cTELI SKIS!\u201d \u201cGRAINS!\u201d \u201cEARN YOUR TURNS!\u201d<\/p>\n

Taken off guard by the screams of the quickly approaching uphillers, John lost his focus and caught an edge. Before he could get to his feet, they were on him, tearing at his off-brand coat, borrowed skins and secondhand skis. Then everything went dark.<\/p>\n

The next morning, John woke up in his bed, adorned with brand new gear. Wondering what the hell happened, he phoned Glenn. After a couple of rings, Glenn picked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey man, what\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot much. Just eating this parfait.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cParfait?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, John, a parfait. You know granola, yogurt, fruit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you hate yogurt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know but I had a yearning for it. Anyway what do you want to get into today?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was thinking of maybe skinning up Ajax.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy boys don\u2019t get soft<\/p>\n

Ben: Chet had never been scared by anything. And he\u2019s spent a lot of time chilling in back of the Hardy Boys\u2019 jalopy (whatever the hell that is, probably a Suzuki XL7S), so he\u2019s seen some shit.<\/p>\n

But as Chet, Frank, Joe and Nancy waited in line at the commercial haunted house under a projector playing \u201cIT\u20193 the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,\u201d a shiver ran through his very colon, like when 9:30 a.m. hits and so does the morning coffee cleanse. IDK why you people do that, but also I sleep til noon so \u00af_(\u2018. \u2018 )_\/\u00af<\/p>\n

\u201cRuh-roh,\u201d whimpered Fred, or whoever is in this stupid, made-up story of which the instances and characters are completely fictional and all likenesses living or *VIOLIN SCREECHING* dead are entirely coincidental.<\/p>\n

Chet\u2019s stomach curled inside him when he spotted the cold-hearted witch ushering him into the living room. Chet had seen her before, in a nightmare, involving pancake batter and a cuckolded boyfriend with a quivering lip. Strange that he could remember such details from a dream. \u201cThank goodness I\u2019m asleep and all depictions past and present are fictitious,\u201d Chet reiterated.<\/p>\n

Upon ascending the stairs at this creepy, totally made-up attraction, Chet was astounded to find he was completely alone, except for a lunch lady from Fort Collins behind the counter flicking pizza crumbs into the trash bin and picking scabs off his face and then licking his fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s as quiet as a ghost,\u201d Chet whispered, combining idioms that don\u2019t make sense but not caring regardless since he fancies himself the star of a Travel Channel docudrama.<\/p>\n

Rattled at this point, Chet darted for the exit.<\/p>\n

But from out of the corner, a quaking voice mustered \u201cHey!\u201d<\/p>\n

A manifestation appeared and held her hands out. Her arms passed through Chet, like Marie Calendar\u2019s knife thinly slicing peas for a microwaveable pot pie. In a daze, he reached to embrace the spectre one last time.<\/p>\n

But instead he was brought back to reality by the chilling embrace of an old friend.<\/p>\n

\u201cChet \u2026 you were dead the whole time, dude,\u201d whispered a voice above the strong, hirsute arms that cradled his head.<\/p>\n

He looked up, and smirked at the handsome face of his buddy.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m too sexy, right?\u201d said Fred.<\/p>\n

Wow, what a plot twist! bwelch@aspentimes.com<\/a> sbeckwith@aspentimes.com<\/a><\/p>\n

via:: The Aspen Times<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Passing away \u2026 almost Ben: I don\u2019t talk to God until I need him. Nobody talks to Death until they\u2019re avoiding him. I curse them both as my wheels say f\u2014 it and skid through October snow and fishtail over the edge of the asphalt. \u201cNobody dies on Independence Pass,\u201d I reassure myself in slow […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[49],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2450567","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-local-news"],"acf":[],"publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-08-19 10:27:55","action":"change-status","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category","extraData":[]},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"distributor_meta":false,"distributor_terms":false,"distributor_media":false,"distributor_original_site_name":"KSPN The Valley's Quality Rock","distributor_original_site_url":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn","push-errors":false,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2450567","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2450567"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2450567\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2450567"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2450567"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alwaysmountaintime.com\/kspn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2450567"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}