Choose Your Own Adventure Part Three

After twenty minutes you huff and throw the covers back. If Sharon did decide to walk, you’d never hear the end of it. You pull a jacket on, knowing the spring air is still chilly at night. As you slip on your shoes you ponder on waking your parents. You glance at the clock, its red light blares ten-thirty at you.

Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

************************************************************************************

Lucky for you, your driveway is circular with a downhill slope and you always park facing down. You throw the car in neutral and coast until you know you’re far enough away that your parents won’t hear the engine. The car rumbles to life, you flick on the headlights and take a final glance back at the house. All the lights are still off. You can pick Sharon up, drop her off at home and slip into bed within an hour, no one the wiser.

********************************************************************************

You’re surprised when you round a bend in the road and your lights flash across Sharon walking. You’ve driven a little over half way to the lake, so you can estimate she’s walked at least two miles, in the dark.

You go girl. Maybe this will help her get rid of her irrational fear of the dark you think as you slow your car down.

Her eyes are round as you approach, but she relaxes as soon as she makes out your car.

You roll down your window. “What’s a purty thing like you doing out here all alone, little girl?” You laugh.

She glances over her shoulder and practically runs to the passenger side of your car. “Lock the doors,” she says as she jumps in the seat and slams the door.

“You okay?” You ask only slightly alarmed as you hit the switch and hear all four doors lock.

“Hell no. I kept hearing noises, like I was being tracked.”

You can’t help but laugh at her drama. “Tracked?”

“Yeah.” She lets out a breath, reaches over and turns the heater on. “Let’s get out of here.”

You turn your wheel hard to the left and slowly pull forward to the edge of the road. “I almost didn’t come. Why didn’t you just hide out in Troy’s car?” You put the car in reverse, glad it’ll only take one back up to get headed in the right direction.

“Ewww, Megan’s with him and I’m sure they have plans for that back seat.”

“Ew.” You agree.

“Really though, thanks. It’s creepy as shit out here, especially at night.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s nothing in the night that there isn’t in the day.”

“Yeah, that’s a lie. There are all kinds of predators that come out at night.”

You laugh again. “We don’t really have predators.”

“No, that’s why we prey on each other.”

You can’t argue with that logic.

*************************************************************************************

It took fifteen minutes for Sharon to fill you in on how lame the party was, who was acting like idiots and who was supposedly hooking up. Now the only sound is the rough asphalt moving under your tires at fifty miles an hour. You know the speed limit is thirty-five but you’re tired and you want to get home. Besides, there were only five houses along this road, and you’re sure all of the residents are sleeping, something you wish you were doing. You widen your eyes to keep them from closing and that’s when you see it. A flash coming from the right-hand side of the road, and then there’s something in front of you, something big enough to be a person.

You have a split second to decide to hit the brakes or swerve.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

 

Please Vote!!!

Again you can comment here on WordPress, or on whichever social media site you found this on.

Thanks so much!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s