Dough-light robbery

In this ghost story for Halloween, a young pizza delivery rider has a spooky encounter

- A short story by Pete Hartley

It was a pile of stones. In fact, it was several piles.

The road boundary was edged with concrete blocks. The area was fenced off and a padlocked gate bore a site safety plate, but there was scant evidence of any construction taking place.

He could see the huge shovel of a mechanical digger, but there was no sign of a site office or lockup. Amir checked his phone. He was in the right place. One margherita for Turpin.

It was a nippy night, but he'd pedalled hard, only engaging the electric motor on a couple of steepish hills. He hadn't done this route before, but orders had been slack that evening and there was a lot of competition from the other deliverers, so he'd grabbed the chance. He hadn't quite realised just how remote this destination was.

Well, he was there now, but nobody else appeared to be. It was a moderately busy road, but the passing traffic was intermittent and as he scanned the fenced-off compound and the arc of bare trees beyond it, an eerie quiet teased his ears. He loosened his scarf and smelled the damp decay of autumn leaf-mould.

Amir cycled a few yards further looking for a house or mobile home or anything. A narrow side road called 'Shire Lane' branched off to the left, so he rode that way, but did not find any habitation and after three or four minutes he turned around. Once back at the junction he decided to continue a little further in his original direction, but that too, proved fruitless. A mist began to form, dressing the landscape with a translucent dough.

A car dashed past, followed shortly after by two more. He was about to phone the takeaway, when he remembered passing a farm track just prior to his arrival. That could be his best bet.