Green Eyes

What do you do when your car breaks down.

On the side of the road.

In the middle of nowhere.

What do you do when the trucker who stopped behind you askes if you need help.

Do you trust his green eyes?

Do you trust the way the green darkens when you step out into the slippery mud.

What do you do when he steps closer, too close.

When you know your pepper spray is expired.

Do you run?

Do you pray?

What God would you pray to?

Did he follow me you think, or is it wrong place wrong time?

Nothing like this has ever happened to you.

You were the play it safe, stay away from the dark, the bogyman never chases little girls.

So, you always turned your back to the shadows that reached to far up the walls and chalked up whispers to creaks in the night.

Now the bogyman is here, come to collect after all his years of chasing.

No words form, no thoughts come spilling out.

Fear.

Cold, splintering, paralyzing fear.

Grabs your shoulders and pushes you down into the gravel.

Ropes bury themselves into your legs.

And a hand crushes your windpipe to stop your screaming.

When the numbness recedes.

And the flashing stops.

And when the laughter finally fades into the distance.

You realize the bogyman doesn't exist.

The devil maybe.

But there are no traps for little girls like you.

They're not waiting around corners for us to trip.

We are convenient in convenient situations for them.

Because I was alone.

On the side of the road.

In the middle of nowhere.