She shivers in the chilly air of the autumn night. Her white dress offers little protection from the cold night. The moon seems to have a hole in it as she looks up at it. With a timid and visible breath she inhales the scent of the pine trees surrounding her. The highway that stretches out in both directions before her is empty and silent. She is about to fall asleep standing up when she looks eastward and spots the small pinpoint of headlights coming through the darkness towards her. They grow closer until she is caught in their spotlight. She hears crunch of gravel as the headlights emerge in the shape of a Cadillac on the shoulder of the road. The passenger door swings open and a voice asks, “Need a ride?”
“Sure… Thanks,” She climbs into the passenger seat as the car drifts back onto the road. She steals a glimpse at the driver: a trim man in his 40s or 50s with horned rimmed glasses and a well-tailored suit. They share a nervous smile. The faint sound of “Thriller in Black” by Johnny Jackson on radio and the roar of the car’s engine are the only sounds on the empty road.
“Where are you going?” The driver finally asks as the song comes to an end
“Bozoula if possible.”
“Sure.”
The car passes mile marker 102 and she notices the driver easing up on the gas.
“What are you doing?” The car comes to a stop just off the road.
The driver’s sharp nails dig into her arm, and she freezes in terrors
She opens her mouth to cry out, but the words are cut off by a sharp blade ripping into her chest. Blood stains the seats as the knife thrusts into its victim again and again. The driver pulls the knife out one more time, panting with the effort and satisfaction
The driver gently opens his driver’s door and walks around to the passenger side where he reaches in through the window and grabs her by the hair, pulling his limp body from the car and onto the grass which is still wet from a recent rainstorm.
The green grass is stained red with her blood as he drags her through a row of bushes and trees a few yards away. Just behind the bushes the moonlight shines on a dilapidated stone well which stands alone in a field of dried, yellow grass. He drags her the rest of the way to the well and heaves her almost-lifeless body over the edge of the well. The expected splash is instead a dull thud.
Soft moonlight enters the well, illuminating the pile of skeletons of his previous victims she has landed on top of. She opens her mouth to scream, but when he looks up to see the dark caverns he calls eyes staring back at her she defiantly snaps her mouth shut, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. Eventually he disappears from her view. As her world fades to black her only wish is for revenge…
The 1953 baby blue Cadillac Eldorado cruises over the cracked and worn asphalt of the old highway. Its driver squints through the late afternoon sun that reflects off the windshield, reading the sign up ahead that reads “101”
A few yards down from the sign he makes out an indistinguishable figure, waiting patiently with a thumb out. The figure soon takes shape as a blonde-haired woman in a white dress.
Gravel crunches under tires as he stops right in front of her.
“Need a ride?”
“Sure, mister. thanks.” The woman eagerly climbs in, flashing the driver a friendly smile and holding eye contact.
They only drive for a minute before “Mile Marker 102” appears on the side of the road to greet him like old friend. The women offers no reaction as he stops. Sunlight glints off a knife blade just before it is thrust into its newest victim. The passenger lets out a grunt as the blade is withdrawn. The knife is about to be forced back into her chest when the wrist holding it is grabbed in a vise grip.
The driver’s eyes widen with recognition as he finally gets a good look at his passenger. Her blonde hair begins to fades back to its original fiery red and her eyes flash back to the a dark shade of hazel. The hole where the knife had entered her starts to close.
“Who are you?” The knifes falls to the floor of the car.
“I’m nobody.”
The driver feels the sharp heat of his own blade as it enters his chest. The car horn blares as the would-be murderer slumps onto it. He gasps one last time and is silent.
The woman passes through the passenger door and hovers in the crisp and chilly afternoon air. She looks towards the forest where the well is barely visible through the trees. And whispers, “Thank you.” A smile of relief is the last thing to evaporate into the autumn daylight.
No ratings yet.
You must be logged in to rate this post.