A Cautionary Tale

“No, no, no, NO!” she pleaded with her car as it crawled to a stop. Slamming her fists against the steering wheel, she just about burst into tears. Holding herself in, she rested her head against her hands on the wheel and took a long, deep breath.

She knew she should have gone to the auto shop for a check-up before starting the long drive, but she had been too busy. Putting her life on hold to drive across three states for the interview of a lifetime had not been easy. But it would be worth it; at least that’s what she had believed.

Now she would be late. Maybe she’d never get there… She sat up, shoving those thoughts aside. She would get there, even if she had to walk!

She turned the key. The engine whirred then clanked then finally screeched. She turned the key back and sighed. Glancing out the window, she stared at the rain dribbling down from a gloomy sky.

“All right Deirdre, pull yourself together. There must be a town nearby. The last one you passed was about two hours ago.” She leaned over, opened the glove box and pulled out the map. Spreading it open over the wheel, her finger traced the route she had highlighted before leaving home. She found Hartsfield, then glanced at her odometer. Okay, she had gone about 95 miles. The next town, Ferryville, should only be a few more miles, five at the most. She could walk that easily. Even in the rain.

Steeling herself, she grabbed her purse and threw the hood of her jacket over her head as she got out of the car. Fumbling to lock the doors, a chill wind swept around her, numbing her fingers. Shoving her hands with keys into her pockets, she started marching down the very lonely, very wet road.

Darkness surrounded her, rain slicked down her jacket and the cold crept in at every available opportunity. She shivered as she stared at the ground in front of her, trying to stay on the road. At the pace she was going, she thought that it might be an hour or two before she saw signs of civilization, unless there were any farms houses skirting the road. Daring to hope, she peered out across the fields of black.

She blinked in surprise when she actually saw a light flicker in the distance. She stopped and stared as one light became two then three then countless little globes of light lit up a distance field.

Maybe it’s some kind of odd festival or midnight harvest, she wondered as she stepped off the road and onto . . . a stone path? She gaped in amazement. She would have completely missed this walkway if it hadn’t been for the lights.

As fast as she could without slipping on the cobblestones, she ran towards the lights and promise of other people.

As she neared the lights, she saw torches set up in a wide circle in the clearing. Within the circle were tables laden with food and drink. Hooded figures glided gaily about. Their laughter tinkled like a thousand bells. Each word a melody of sweet bliss.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked again – no rain! No one inside the circle was wet! Unsure of what she was seeing, she took a step back, knocking a stone down the path.

The figures looked up, yet she still couldn’t see their faces. They swayed and danced. A haunting song reached her ears.

Tar i, bi tiring, ith bia, bi sona.
(Come in, be dry, eat food, be happy.)

Though she did not understand their language, her body understood and started walking towards their beckoning call. Into the circle of light. Sat down on a bench. Ate something sweet. Drank something spicy. Dry. Warm. Light. Happy.

Deirdre, Deirdre - Aonarach de sinn go deo.
(Deirdre, Deirdre – One of us forever.)


Day broke, cloudy, but dry on an abandoned car surrounded by sheriff cars. Over, under and through they searched for signs of the driver. Registration told them the car belonged to one Deirdre Langley. Tracks in the still muddy road indicated Deirdre had left the car and walked approximately three yards before stepping off into the open fields. The bizarre part was that there were no foot prints in the grass. Most of the officers thought that only a crazy person would have attempted to walk 20 miles to the next town, Clarksville. Unable to solve the case, they marked it down as another mysterious disappearance. The 13th one recorded so far at this exact spot.


(769 words)

(Disclaimer: I do not know Irish. I briefly used an online dictionary, irishdictionary.org, to translate the words. I’m pretty sure I completely messed up on the sentence structure. I sincerely apologize to anyone who knows Irish – please do not be offended.)