The Walk

The lonely figure approached, bringing with her a cool breeze; the sort of breeze one would expect upon an open beach but not on the country lane where I currently stood.

My car was prone to fits of sputtering and in this instance, it would no longer remain running. So there I stood, surrounded by gloomy branches heavy with Fall upon them and as the woman approached, the afore mentioned breeze swirled up into the branches, sending the crisp leaves into drab, brown whirlwinds of descent.

"Hello!" I called out, glad to have found someone who could possibly direct me to a garage or at the very least, a phone. I received no reply, just a gust of dust and dead leaves in my face.

The woman continued to approach, the pervasive breeze blowing wildly before her as though it were sweeping the way clean for her light tread. She did not answer my greeting, in fact, she showed no response to my call at all.

I took closer notice of her. Her stride was confident and the dark slacks she wore were neither blue nor black, but somewhere in between. The shirt was indistinguishable from her overcoat, both being of a dark color as well. But her hair, now that was an attention-getter no matter what clothes she chose to wear.

Her hair looked as pure white as the full moon above, tendrils which leaped around in the breeze were like fine spider's webs and the length of it was well past her waist.

She walked with a large, dark walking stick which was as tall as her shoulder, though I noticed no perceptible limp or other infirmity which would require such a staff. Her footwear appeared to be made of some dark, smooth animal skin, but the supple movements belied leather which tended to be stiff and abrasive.

She continued to draw closer and I once again hailed her.

"You there, do you have a cell I could use?" Before I could determine if my greeting was acknowledged, gray clouds swept over the treetops and the cool breeze became a strong, cold wind. I felt the temperature change, my hair stood on end and a feeling of dread seeped right into my bones.

I had no gloves on my hands but felt sure they would not have insulated my fingers even if I'd had them on. My hat was whipped off of my head, sending my shortly cropped hair into wild disarray and the wind began to moan through the trees, causing my skin to prickle and my teeth to chatter.

I dared to raise my eyes to the woman, chancing the dust and dirt to see if she required assistance, but as I glimpsed at her my heart pounded in my chest, beating an irregular pattern. Surely this was no ordinary woman! I thought to myself.

She moved as though she were untouched by the chaos around her. The sun must surely never have dared to touch such milk-white skin and her hair assuredly knew no one's loving caress. Her lips were neither smiling nor frowning, but the redness of those lips! One would not hear the words spoken from between such lips, they would be too overcome by their sheer perfection of form.

Small flakes of snow twirled around her and she seemed not fazed at all. Then, as she passed by my huddled form, she looked upon me. Eyes which were as blue as the coldest iceberg in Antarctica pierced my soul. She was old as the Earth, but no wrinkle dared show on her porcelain-like skin. Elegant brows arched in regal regard of my upright form.

Her feet, which I had thought tread so lightly upon the country lane were inches above the ground and the great black staff which she wielded so easily seemed to thrust her forward on her journey as a pole would be used to push a light skip along in marshy waters.

The staff itself was one great continuous carving of small skulls. The empty eye sockets looked out from every side and in all directions, and though I knew it couldn't be true, I felt as if those intricate carvings had been alive at some point. Held lightly in her sure grasp, the staff seemed to vibrate and hum; indeed, it seemed as though the very wind itself, icy cold and deadly, emanated from within the stick!

I fell to my knees, oblivious to the gravelly points as the rocks made piercing contact with skin. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her form, nor could I direct my limbs to obey me. My mind screamed at me to flee but my body was held immobile by those blue, blue orbs. Her shoulders were narrow but strong and I sensed her burden was not an easy one. Tears brimmed in my eyes and one tear ran down my cheek, though I knew not why. She lowered one arched brow as though she were pondering some great decision, then from between those perfectly blood-red lips came a single word.

"Stay," she said. Instantly the vision of a slinky feline, languidly sprawled out in front of a roaring fire and purring contentedly jumped into my mind's eye.

Her voice was like liquid fire, she spoke barely above a soft whisper, but to my ears that one word sounded loud as church bells. Her eyes did not blink and I knew that she had seen every act of kindness, every bad deed, every thing I had ever done or thought in my lifetime. I silently prayed for her to speak once more for her voice touched my very core, made my pulses surge and my brain confused. She was Marlena Dietrich and Marilyn Monroe rolled into one woman.

At last, after what seemed hours, her gaze fell elsewhere, her feet once more moved confidently and her staff swung forcefully to the front again. Once freed from that paralyzing look, I made my way into the car, praying to God it would start. I glanced once more toward the swiftly departing figure though I knew there was danger in it, but I felt drawn to look, much as a moth is drawn to the flame.

She still strode confidently in those not blue, not black slacks and her hair still wound itself about her body like a protective shawl, but no more could I see those stunning, knowing eyes or feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her hips swayed lightly as she walked away, teasing my senses and causing an inner burning of lust. The flakes of snow began to fall in earnest and she disappeared into the cold mist while the wind became silent and still.

She was gone from my sight, but not from my soul. Chilled fingers turned the keys and thankfully my car sputtered to life. I shifted from neutral to first, let out the brake and stepped on the gas. I don't know how I knew, but if I looked back in my rear-view mirror she would have been standing there in the road once more, watching me tremble with those piercing eyes. I knew, if I dared to look upon her face once again, she would take me with her. The torture of her perfection intermingled with the sense of Death was a heady combination. For a moment, my eyes dared to rise to the mirror frame but my better sense quickly forced them back to the rapidly disappearing country lane.

That old saying pounced into my head; Tempt Death once, luck with you, tempt Death twice, start over anew, tempt Death thrice, we'll surely miss you.

My old Granny had said that once of Uncle Oscar when he died, adding that "Death had taken him because he tempted Death so..." I pushed Granny's memory aside and watched carefully as my headlights illuminated the fat snow flakes falling lazily to Earth.

I saw before me that empty snow-covered country lane, my car sputtered just once but I pumped the gas coaxingly, I shifted into second gear and never looked back.