Home Again

A dewy mist hung just above the ground, tightly hugging the thin trees like oversized skirts stopped in sway, mid-dance. Looking away from the forest and to the stop sign at my right, I realized that I had been sitting a full minute at this spot, my headlights beaming out into the black, foggy woods, their white glow absorbed in the first reflective wave of moisture.

Something was watching back.

Was that why I had stayed at this stop for so long? Was I waiting for that 'something' to appear, waiting to see feet beneath the misty skirts? Or had I simply forgotten the way? It was left, I reminded myself, left down the hillside. That's where my home stood, a modest, square house covered with white walls and dark blue, useless shutters at the windows. It was quaint, with a nice lawn that tilted down towards the patchwork road, and a marked grave at one side, where my old German Sheppard lay buried for the past four years.

Home was to the left, three minutes away, and I flicked on my signal at long last, though no other distant, glaring lights announced another driver. Thankfully the old county road didn't see much traffic, especially at this time of night, or I would probably have been awakened from my thoughts by the blast of a horn.

I licked dried coffee off my lips, savoring how the taste mixed with my last meal, and let one hand release the steering wheel. It was tingling, numb; why was I holding onto things so tightly these days? Fingers loosened, it felt like a stranger was wiping the sleep from my eyes. I was overwhelmed, suddenly, by the need to lie in my own bed. My own, not Jared's. Never Jared's again.

Not after tonight.

"I'm getting old," I told the clock, which firmly announced that there was another half hour until midnight.

With a groan, I released the break and rolled the steering wheel, missing the curve's deep pothole by an inch. I'd have to get used to going to bed earlier again anyhow. School started back in two days, and that meant an excuse to stay out of the house for half the day and asleep for the other half. It would be a relief, even though Cassie wouldn't be in class with me anymore.

I bit my lip to stop myself from tearing up.

God, I'd miss her. My best friend, along with the rest of her family, had moved out of Moonpass. How they had managed to escape this place, I'd never know. I know what some people would say, that this was the age of technology, that she was only a text message away, but that wasn't quite true in Moonpass, in "the little-big valley." This place was my home, the only one I'd ever known, and it didn't seem that odd to me that it was so disconnected, that when people moved, they didn't write back to their hometown.

It wasn't strange at all, to me. But I'd heard from others, those new people who came and went, that Moonpass was special. The funny thing was, those folks always had this look in their eye, like special wasn't the right word. Like maybe they were afraid of saying what they really thought.

I grinned, blinking tiredly. I'd eaten late, a big meal, and that always made me sleepier. After all, I was still young, I could usually stay up and greet the dawn, unlike my parents. My lips twitched. I didn't exactly enjoy going home anymore, not since staying with Jared this summer. What I hated most was that my family would probably boast; Mom and Dad might not say it, but they'd smile in a way that let me know how wrong I was about him.

And it sucked that they were right. I thought I needed a new friend after Cassie left, but Jared was no substitute. He was just too different.

The fog disappeared as I slid down my driveway, taking in the bumps of the gravel path and watching my lights spread free again. I caught it from the corner of my eye and slammed on the brakes, my heart in my throat. A shaky breath later, I realized what it had been, the slight glow of red in two perfect orbs. Eyes. Eyes watching me.

My body was tense, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt, but I hit the gas again, turning onto the cement square beside my dad's pick-up. The yellow indoor lights shined brightly out the thin curtains of my home, and I could hear the roar of chatter and the television through the walls. It was easy to spot Mom there, staring through the windshield at my face. She was holding a flat wooden box, her good utensils, the ones from the garage, under her arm. I opened my car door to the sound of her voice.

"Honey," she greeted, a sad smile on her face, "I'm so glad you came home."

"Mom. . ."

She shook her head, her tight gray bun bobbing at the motion. "Don't start now. I know how hard this was for you, but you're doing the right thing."

"Maybe."

"I'm just happy you made it in time. All your cousins are here and waiting-they're so excited about tonight."

Her arm was around me, guiding me to the trunk of my car. I slid the key into the lock with a sigh. "Jared's no good," I said, shaking my head. "Mom, he's. . ."

"Honey, you're just a bit too picky," she assured. "And you've probably forgotten what a fresh one tastes like."

The trunk popped. A soiled tarp lay over the cargo. I pulled it loose, careful not to sling blood onto my blouse. A carpet was tucked tightly around the broad-chest of the body within, the mangled head sticking out of one end, blue tennis shoes out the other.

"You're probably right, Mom. I'm sure everyone will love him."

Mom reached down into the shadow's, pulling the corpse's head up into the moonlight. She smiled chidingly at its missing cheek, clicking her tongue at the sight of the facial muscles and molars beneath.

She elbowed me, "That's your problem, dear. You've never cared for soft meat."

I smiled, relieved. "So we're ok now, Mom? You're not mad at me for staying with Jared?"

"With this harvest, we'll be just fine," she said, dropping the head back down. It thumped against the floor of the trunk and something wet slid loose. "I'm not mad, honey, though I still don't know what your friend Cassie's family is going to do-I hear the pickings are slim in Wava County. Well, we better get this inside before Robby and Tim start eating each other."

I reached down, tugging at the covered shoulder against the interior. A howl sounded in the distance, stopping me. I looked up at the hovering moon above, shining down on the black treeline, and rolled my eyes.

"Say, Mom, was that Uncle Bob on the road earlier?"