Two hands on the wheel, Karen twisted her neck to see if anyone was behind her, before pulling out. Once out on the road she gave a sigh of relief, pressed her foot down harder on the pedal, and took off toward the cabin. It was still about three hours until she could turn onto the familiar dirt driveway. She just hoped she wouldn’t meet any of the locals on the way in, she just wanted a break from the hustle and bustle of the real world.
Karen thought about the last few days at work. A ping of fear swept through her, thinking about the phrase her coworker, Brian, kept saying; “Don’t go anywhere alone!”. Was he being a flake about the rumors that there was a killer on the loose? Karen thought Brian would be the last one to fall for rumors. This little hiatus to the cabin would be good for her. The trend to go out drinking when you have a problem, was not her method of coping.
The car seemed to drive itself down the familiar highway roads. Singing along to the radio, Karen didn’t even realize how much time was passing. Suddenly she saw it, the mailbox where letters came from family members. She had thought about it, after purchasing the cabin, that the only people she would give the address to would be people in her family.
Slowly, Karen pulled up next to the mailbox, rolled down her window, and reached out to open the mailbox. Her hand stopped in mid-air as she froze. Past the box, the long driveway led to the cabin, which had its lights on. She never left the lights on. Who was in the cabin? Should she ask the police to come with her or just drive up and check it out herself? She figured she was acting foolishly, even though rumors of murder hung in the air over the whole area.
Written for the Sunday Whirl: https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/