he was coming to kill her.
Jean asked the girl to repeat her name and then swapped the broom for something a little more substantial in dealing with a man who beat his wife – mace, machete, gun – and called for help.
“Quickie Mart on Route ‘X’,” The place had been robbed that many times, it had a direct line to the Sheriff’s Department. “There’s a woman in here’s been hurt pretty bad. Don’t know. But I’ve locked us up. Bring an ambulance.”
It wasn’t Maroula who scared me. Or even Jean and her little arsenal. It was ‘the outside’ that made my back hurt and my stomach turn.
The weather fell fast. In the time it took me to get out of the car and get stuck in the store the fog grew so ugly I couldn’t even make out the Dodge sitting at pump 6.
It was like that Stephen King story – And I swear I’m not going for effect here – where everyone gets trapped inside the grocers…where something hides in the fog to tear off limbs or faces, or to do whatever it is that fog creatures do.
Well, it was like that. Only our fog creature wasn’t completely unknown, at least not to one of us.
“My husband. He likes to do this. To hatefully beat me.” Maroula was crying again. Splitting her infinitives and telling us about the man she married. “He said he will kill me and put me in the pond. No one will know and I will be dead. In the water.” She talked until her swollen lip and the pressure of a broken rib made her stop.
Her husband, our fog thing, was a hick named Bobby Loop who wore brass belt buckles and had a penchant for liquor and guns. He met her on the internet. Flew to Greece to bring her home. Bypassed any immigration procedures which would have documented her presence in the country. Forbade her any friends, family or means of contact with the outside world.
“He says he can do what he wants with me. No one knows I’m here.” I believed every word Maroula said about the half-a-man. (Because it takes a half a man to beat a woman – believe that.) And I believed he was outside waiting for her just beyond the fog…just beyond the seeing.
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i feel like im there with her!! my prayers will be with this woman! cant wait to hear how you play it out!
I was actually holding my breath while reading this!
Riveting!
You’re beginning to make me loathe the word ‘continued….’
Riveting, as always. I am with Jay though, on the loathing.
Ok, for some reason, there’s a fog outside my window right now. I dont know why, since Arizona never gets foggy (and I mean, never…) and the fact there’s a creature waiting beyond the mist, is just…WOW. Truly terrifying. And truly upsetting that like Miss Jay and Deanna Banana, I now hate the word, “continued”.
[...] Continued… 20 Comments so far Leave a comment [...]
Great story…you totally have me hanging at the end of each section. Which is fun, and a little bit mean…
and…I responded to your comment on my blog but in case you forget to go back and look, the color of my hair? Not natural. Thanks for liking it! I do too.
Wow, the way you write makes me feel like I’m there. I can’t wait to read the rest.
I’m with jay on hating the word continued… Keep ‘em coming!
P.S. did you ever finish the Not So Supermodel continuation? I can’t remember. I’ll need to go back through your archives.
How scary!!!
It’s stories like this that make me want to own a gun.