The One
She is searching for him
I rarely put warnings on my stories; after all I write about the supernatural and my characters can be macabre, violent and downright scary. In this story it is one of the humans and his past crimes you might want to avoid.
The rain was bouncing off the road, creating a myriad of fountains in the beams of the car’s headlights. He was driving slowly, carefully, there were no streetlights on the cliff top road, when he noticed the bus shelter through the rain splattered windscreen. He squinted; was that a figure standing huddled in the corner?
As he got closer, he could see it was a girl. She was wearing a short skirt, thin top and no coat and looked as if she was shivering in the cold night air.
He pulled over, lowered the passenger window and leaned over. “Do you want a lift?” he called out. “I know it’s not right to ask, but I think you’ve missed the last bus and I don’t want you freezing to death if this doesn’t stop.”
“Thank you,” she tottered across the pavement, still huddled against the rain, and opened the door. She was skinny, for a moment he wondered if the wind might blow her away as she looked in at him, her long, straight dark hair hanging either side of her head, almost hiding her face.
She climbed into the passenger seat and tugged at her short skirt as if trying to hide her long, thin legs.
“You’re quite safe with me,” he smiled. I’ll give you a lift into town if that’s where you live?”
“Thank you,” she looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. “You’re very kind”.
They drove on in silence, him peering through the windscreen, trying to make sure they stayed on the road as he could see no more than a few yards in front of the car. He sensed her moving, turning to look at him.
“Are you going to stop somewhere?” she asked.
He looked at her. “No, let’s get you home,” he said. “That’s not why I offered you a lift.”
“I’m glad you’re not the one,” she said.
He looked back through the windscreen. The wipers flicked back and forth, still barely clearing one coating of water before the rain replaced it. He glanced back at the passenger seat. She was gone.
The car slithered to a halt as he stood on the brakes. The door was closed, the seatbelt hung loose, there was nothing except the faint smell of her perfume to suggest she had ever been there. He looked behind the seat; the car was empty. Twisting around, he could see nothing through the water streaming down the back window.
It was impossible to reverse back. If she was real, he might run over her. He shook his head, he must have imagined it. A long, tough day at work and driving home in this weather, he was tired, his mind was playing tricks on him, unless… No, he didn’t believe in ghosts.
***
“You want a lift?” He shouted through the open passenger side window. The rain was hammering down and the girl was huddled in the corner of the bus shelter.
She moved to the edge of the shelter and peered through the open window, still a few feet from his van. He smiled at her; a bit skinny, nice long legs though and a really short skirt. “There’s no more buses tonight,” he added encouragingly.
“Thanks,” she climbed into the passenger seat and tugged at the hem of her skirt.
“You going into town?” he asked as the van began to move into the wall of water.
“I’m just trying to get home,” the girl said.
He looked down at her legs, the pelmet of her skirt barely hid her knickers, small tits, nipples pointing through the thin material of her bra and top. She was looking down at her hands in her lap, her face hidden by the curtains of straight, dark hair that hung down either side of her head like a monk’s hood.
He glanced into the back of the van as he turned off the road. The plastic was there, laid out neatly, taped to the sides, ready. The van bounced down the rough track. He peered through the windscreen, rain was still plastering the glass and beating on the metal roof. Go to far and he’d drive off the cliff edge, but he wanted to be close - for later.
“Where are we going?” she asked, still not looking up.
“Shortcut,” he said.
The van stopped and he pulled hard on the handbrake. “Time to pay for your lift,” he grabbed at her naked leg and swung himself on top of her.
She looked up at him. “You’re the one.”
“You,” he gasped.
The van rattled forward. She had pulled the handbrake off. He tried to grab at it. She held him tight. How was she so strong?
It was a long way down to the rocks and the pounding sea below.
***
Sergeant McKinnon looked over the edge of the cliff at the tangled mass of wreckage. “How the fuck are we going to get that back up?”
“The lifeboat people said it’s empty,” Officer James said. “Thought it might have been dumped but it’s registered to a Scott Martin.”
“I know that name,” McKinnon thought for a moment. “Didn’t we look at him for the murder of that girl?”
“Yes, they think she was trying to get home in the storm last Autumn. Forensics proved she’d been in his van, but he said he’d given her a lift earlier that week. Her body washed up down the coast and was so battered by the sea they couldn’t prove anything else.”
If you’re in the mood for a bit more satanic revenge - try these.
Yes! Very nice. I had to look up 'pelmet' something new every day :) I am guessing from the phrasing it isn't a very short miniskirt, but the stiff edging? Google was unclear.
It took me a while to realize how 'punishments' in most books, movies, etc. work. I still remember how distressed I was when that kid in a Christmas Story had his tongue stuck to the pole. After seeing it as an adult I realize that punk got his desserts.