Tracy knew the scene seemed a bit cliché. Here she was, a young, attractive woman,
standing all alone, late at night, looking into the mouth of a darkened
alleyway.
Was she seriously considering going in? The mere thought of doing so caused a wave of
panic to wash over her. She fought it
down, trying to regain her composure.
She peered into the depths of the unknown. No light could be discerned; not the
slightest bit. She stood motionless, a
slight fear fluttering into her chest and stomach.
A slight fear? It was more like paranoia, bordering on full
blown terror. By sheer force of will she
pushed her emotions aside, clutched her purse tightly and stepped forward. There would be no turning back.
Within a few steps the shadows of the alleyway consumed her
completely. No one looking in from
Pierre Street would even be aware of her.
Even she wasn’t sure she was present.
Only the echoes of her heels on the pavement reassured her of her own
presence.
The air surrounding her was becoming stifling, having a
feeling of staleness to it, as well. A
few more steps and a foul odor began to assail her nose. The stench permeated her very pores the
farther she walked.
The scurrying of tiny feet to her left caused her to pause
in mid step. What could it have been? A lost dog?
A scavenging cat? Worse, it could be vermin. And not the cute little white kind with the
pink twitching nose. No, this one would
be the large, brown kind with fangs the size of butcher knives. The kind that’s so big even a rodeo cowboy
would have trouble hanging onto for the full eight seconds.
Fear threatened, but she successfully fought it off once
again. How many times would she win that
battle? Would fear finally paralyze
her? Leave her stranded in the alley
until daybreak? She wasn’t sure she
wanted to find out the answer to those questions.
She shook her head to clear the thoughts trying to run
rampant through her mind and forced herself forward once more.
Once she was deep into the alley she heard the noise she feared
the most: shuffling footsteps coming from behind her.
She turned, craning her neck as far as it would go. Nothing but dark came to her eyes. As she stood looking into the darkness the
shuffling repeated itself, just a slight bit nearer than the last time. The sound was followed this time by a high
pitched squeal.
“Hello,” she frantically called out. “Is someone there?”
Did she really think a skulking pervert would announce
himself to his intended victim? It would
be more like a knife in the back with no warning.
With no response forthcoming she resumed her trek, stepping
gingerly, trying to avoid making any noise; thereby avoiding alerting the
would-be assailant to her whereabouts.
The farther she went, the more she heard the shuffling steps
and nerve racking squeal.
She finally saw the light at the end of the alley, causing
her to increase her pace. Unfortunately,
it seemed the footfalls behind increased in speed as well.
She fairly ran the last few yards to light and safety. Once free of the darkness she turned and
paused for one last look into the abyss.
Curiosity got the better of her.
‘Didn’t it also kill the cat?’ she wondered.
As she stood watching, emotions as scattered as an Oklahoma
barn after a twister, an elderly couple pushing a shopping cart emerged from
the alley she had so recently quitted.
One wheel emitting a horrendous squeal before they came to a stop.
The shriveled old couple held onto the cart as if it were a
double walker. The grey haired woman
turned to the stoop shouldered man as she pulled something from the side of her
head.
“Harold, I think my battery went dead,” she croaked,
gingerly holding a hearing aid in one hand.
Harold turned to the woman and replied, “What? Can’t hear you, my blasted battery went dead
again.”
Tracy’s body relaxed, fear slipping away. A smile played at the corners of her mouth, until
the old geezer pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at her, that is.
