Friday, March 9, 2012

A Walk to Remember



My sister and myself and one of our friends were walking from another friend's house back to my parents place one Friday night.  We live in a small Midwestern town, in the country, really.  The road we're on is flanked by woods on one side and a cornfield on the other.  There aren't any businesses, very few houses, and even fewer cars on this road.
We're all talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company when we see a man walking in our direction but on the other side of the road.  We , at least I, don't give him more than a passing glance as we walk past.  However, just a few moments later, my sister looks behind us and mumbles "oh, shit."  I look behind us, too, and see the guy we just passed had turned around and was now walking in the same direction of us.  I watch as he crosses the street and is now on the same side of the street as us, following behind us. 
By now my friend also knows about the guy, and we're all a little, just a little, freaked out. It's a safe town, and we've lived there our entire lives.  I guess being raised and living in a really safe area makes one feel more at ease in creepy situations.  It's like you say to yourself, "nothing bad ever happens here, so nothing bad will happen now."
None of us seemed to want to check behind us again, so we walked for a little while, before my sister worked up the courage to look back again.  Immediately she turned forward and said "He's right behind us."  I can't look, but I know she's right because I hear whispers coming from just a few feet away.  I can't understand what he's saying at first.  I ask my sister, "What's he saying."  She doesn't know. 
I can tell my sister is starting to become perhaps not less scared, but maybe more pissed off than she is scared.  It's like I can hear her thoughts and she's saying "fuck this guy."  The next thing I know my sister stops, so our friend and I do too, and watch as she says, "What the fuck are you saying?" 
I finally get a good look at the guy. He's tall and thin, long greasy dark hair.  I remember thinking how pale he was for the middle of the summer.  There we all stood, him looking at us and us back at him.  He stares at us from a moment, and then says in a voice calm as a glass of water "Run."  We have just enough time to look at each other before he screams "RRRRUUUUNNN!"
Guided by his good advice we three bolt.  We don't stop until our lungs and legs are spent.  Bent over at the waist I look behind us, and see the man - far in the distance now - walking down the road going away from us, the direction he was originally headed.
When we reach my parent's house, we tell my mom and dad about it.  They decide it was just some asshole trying to scare us.  Mission accomplished.

1 comment:

Scared said...

That's a classic! I can just see the scary guy whispering and then screaming. Great stuff!