Make Up Mondays – Writober Part 3
Soooo…… I’ve been a little MIA… again. Sorry about that. Things in life get crazy, and I find that my blogging and writing habits tend to take the hit when that happens. Trying to get better…
That being said, let’s kick off Make Up Mondays again with a story that I should have posted back in October for “Writober 2015”
This is the next installment in Jayne’s story
Air caught in my lungs as I halted my full-out sprint. It hurt to breathe. Worse were their accusations—those ripped at my insides like a hunting knife. People I grew up with, old family friends, turned on me like white blood cells to a virus. Suddenly I was their enemy. Freak of nature, witch, cursed. All words they had hurled at me with stunning ferocity. They didn’t know, couldn’t understand or fathom what had happened. They assumed the worst and practically chased me out of my own home town.
So I ran.
And ended up here… wherever ‘here’ was. The first town I came to consisted of a gas station, a small grocery store, and a bar/restaurant. I walked to the latter, eager for some water. Willie’s Watering Hole Bar & Grill, the sign read. The inside was as I expected, wood panelling gave off the ‘barn’ vibe, while the predominant fashion statement was boots and cowboy hats. Every table was full, which wasn’t saying much, considering the place could probably only fit fifty people, maximum. The only place to sit was a solitary stool at the bar. I was only twenty, maybe the bartender would let the year deficit slide.
“You sure you’re old enough to sit here, darlin’,” he said in a heavy southern accent.
“I’m sure I don’t have many options,” I said, looking around.
He sighed. “What’ll it be?”
He rolled his eyes and produced an ice-cold glass, which I promptly inhaled.
“You’re not plannin’ on driving after all that, are ya?” The man next to me asked, though his back was still turned to me. He wore a suit jacket and a black fedora.
“It’s just water.” I tried to hide the nerves in my voice. The guy gave me a weird feeling.
“What sort of circumstances could have possibly brought a young girl such as yourself to this middle-of-nowhere bar to drink water by herself?”
My hands started to sweat. I didn’t need any extra attention right now. Who knew how long the incident on the farm back home would stay a secret.
“My ride’s outside. We’re just passing through; I was thirsty, so we made a pit stop.”
My breathing accelerated, and I was certain the man didn’t buy it. He finally turned to me, though his face was partially hidden by the brim of his hat.
“Where are you from? I’m guessing one of the nearby towns. Daddy’s probably a farmer, am I right? Me, I’m a… hunter… of sorts.”
Wind rattled the windows, and I became undeniably aware of the sudden storm brewing outside. The weather must be responding to my growing anxiety.
“I… I’ve got to go.” I stood, but so did this hunter.
Lightning flashed outside the restaurant. Then again. Somehow I knew the second bolt wasn’t from me. It had a different… flavor.
Rain padded the roof as lightning struck again, plunging the restaurant into darkness.
“See you again,” he said confidently.
Chills prickled my arms as I fled the building.