Supernatural Fiction posted March 14, 2011


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Where the hills really do have eyes

The Long Way Home

by Realist101

Way past sundown and out where the trees cross over the roads, the shadows seem to come to life as the headlights of my car cast around for purchase in the midnight hour. Flooding has closed the short cut home. Now I am forced to traverse the looming path through the forest of no return.

Late at night, when the moon is on vacation and the gullies and ravines are black and bottomless pits, the limbs resemble sinewy arms with claws reaching out as I pass by. The old stumps and logs look like unknown and menacing creatures too, when the imagination takes hold; and I try to keep my eyes fixed on the road, so they won't see my fear.

I wonder, as I drive, what would happen all these miles from home, if this auto that I probably shouldn't trust, would quit on me here, out in the middle of no-where. I shudder and shake the thought. "Surely that won't happen," I say aloud to no one in particular as my guts roil and churn.

The radio is dubious company, anonymous voices and variable music are all that stave off this odd feeling of being the last one left on earth. There are no houses, no stores or safe havens here. I keep an even pace and don't look in the rear-view mirror. And I feel the hills watching, waiting; knowing.

Ahead, the road winds and dips, the occasional pot-hole claiming another mile from the life of my car and I slow down, wishing I were safe at home in the hot shower. I hope I make it in one piece; there is a stiff breeze kicking up and the car struggles to stay on the road. The radio warns of storms moving in and I have three long miles to go before I will be safe.

Lightning flashes and the hills that seem so friendly in the light of day, take on the look of dinosaurs skulking beneath the storm clouds. I try to race the wind and my heart beats faster as I make my little car hum.

There! I see the lights of home, but something looms, its gnashing teeth reaching for my car and the earth shakes as the colossal feet pound the road behind me.

Thunder begrudgingly grumbles that spring is here and as I pull slowly into the garage, my good dog appears, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and welcomes me home again.



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Thank you for reading...this is just for fun. I live in the boonies where the hills really do have eyes...")
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