My Apologies, Mr. Smith

About This Author

Web~Witch is living and writing with a passion, surrounded by the picturesque beauty of a quaint New England town in Massachusetts. She is inspired by the gorgeous maples, the rolling hills and the vast sea. As a mother of five children, four daughters and one son, she has learned that life offers many challenges, yet, has found that there is always a path of least resistance. She enjoys every day and what it has to offer. Her dream is to pass along as much positivity as possible to others. Enjoying life to its fullest , laughing, spreading joy and humor and paying it forward is what describes the heart and soul of this woman. Welcome to her little corner of the world. Do enjoy some New England charm and warmth while you are visiting. Ta, WW

My Apologies, Mr. Smith

I just get so tired of the entire Halloween hullabaloo, costume parties, and the general craziness of people at this time of year. Danya has decided to have another one of her Happy Halloween events. I must wear a costume, and bring the black moons for dessert.

If Danya wasn’t my best friend I would surely decline going to the party. I will show up and mingle for a couple hours, and then I will feign a headache. The idea of having a quick escape plan in my arsenal made having to go to the party all that much easier. However, you would think that Danya would just grow up. For goodness sakes, it’s the seventies! There is so much misery going on in the world; not to mention all that trouble at the gas pumps. However, Danya must have her “Monster Mash” event.

I donned my over worn French maid costume with those neat little fishnet stockings. I just love the fishnets because they are so comfortable. The first time I ever wore them, I was surprised at how good they felt. After I finished prepping for the miserable evening ahead, I grabbed the black moons and headed for the car.

I arrived, late of course, but who would care, dessert comes at the end of the other eats. Following the initial green fog, welcome drink, I ate, danced and got my ass pinched more than once. I thought I could manage to get through another one of Danya’s freaky parties, however, my ass was sore, the sickly, blood red hors d'oeuvres were gross, and the dance I had with some Frankenstein stepping on my toes just aggravated me enough to develop that headache.

“Danya, I’m sorry, but I have this miserable headache, and I have to leave before it gets worse. You know how terrible my migraines can get.”

“Oh, Sybil, I am so sorry about that. Would you like me to call a taxi for you so you won’t have to drive yourself home?"

“No, don’t bother. I can manage the half-hour drive home, and I really don't want to wait for a cab. I will just leave now while the pain is manageable. You know how awful it is to have that facial pain attached to the headache. I think you may have experienced it once or twice.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you are saying. You just get home and rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I should be struck down for telling such a big fib. Nevertheless, I just cannot imagine hurting my dear friend’s feelings.The night air felt marvelous on my face. That clean, crisp, October breeze just made me stop and breathe in for a while. I decided it would be best not to stand around for too long as Danya would find a way to talk me back into that party. I lit up a cigarette, got into the car, and put the radio on my favorite classic rock station.

I was so wrapped up in the music and cigarette that I hardly noticed this dark figure coming toward my door. I quickly pressed down the lock button. He was wearing a creepy reaper costume. He started yelling for me to open my door. He grabbed for the handle, which wouldn’t turn, and began banging on my window. I screamed out for him to go away. I don’t remember meeting him at the party. Although there were a few reapers there, this one had a purple sash that I did not notice at the party. Why is Danya not watching out her window? She is always so overprotective and usually watches me until my car leaves the front of her house. Tonight, when I need her to be watching out for me, she is nowhere to be seen.

I started the engine and yelled at the man to let go of my door. With the car in gear, I slowly moved forward until he released his clutch on the handle. I managed to exhale and regain my composure. He had to be drunk to do something like that.

Thank God I will be home soon; then I can put this whole crummy night behind me. However, just as I began to relax, I saw a pair of headlights approaching right on my tail. Oh, my goodness, he is flashing his high beams on and off. I wonder if this is the same guy who tried to stop me at the party. What is wrong with him?

I tried to accelerate to get him off my bumper, but it was no use; his car was keeping up with me without a problem. I saw the downtown exit coming up and decided to take it. The downtown area is usually well lit, and it might discourage this jerk from following me.

Unfortunately, he was still on my rear bumper like it was Chevy mating season, or something. I searched the area for any sign of life. If I could get someone’s attention, that would surely convince this guy to back off. However, nobody was around. The street was barren; most people have better things to do on Saturday night than hang around the town. Suddenly, I had a real brain flash of genius. I proceeded to the next block where the comforting blue light was shining in front of the police station. I pulled over in front of the building and just leaned on the horn.

This is unbelievable! The guy just pulled up behind me. He got out of his car and started walking toward me as I was leaning on my horn. Finally, two police officers came out of the building and approached my car. I opened my window and blurted out "Arrest that man, he is stalking me."

The taller officer approached the man who did not even try to get away. He just stood there at the back end of my car and talked with the police officer. The shorter officer stayed by my side, trying to keep me calm.

Minutes later, the taller officer came back to the door and asked me to get out of the car. I froze. He yelled, "Unlock your door and get out of the car, NOW!” I immediately obeyed the command; he then pulled me away from the car. He whispered something to the other officer and they both released their revolvers from their holsters. One officer stood back a little aiming his gun at my back door, while the other pulled the door open.

"Put your hands up, where I can see them."

I could not understand whom he was yelling at in my car.

Soon that question was answered when I saw this dark figure slowly emerge from my backseat.

I stood there in shock as flashes of the evening started replaying in my mind. The shorter officer talked to me as the taller one escorted the man who was hiding in my back seat to the police station.

"Ma'am, the gentleman you claimed had been stalking you, saw that perpetrator climb into the back seat of your car right before you left the party. He thought it was strange that you went to your car and did not acknowledge the 'passenger'. He concluded that this man was not someone you knew. He said he tried to stop you from leaving the party, but you overreacted and just drove away. He followed you to make sure this guy would not take you someplace and hurt you. He was actually relieved to see that you stopped at the precinct, here. It's all over now, dear. Maybe you should go over and thank Mr. Smith. He is a real courageous citizen."

"Thank you officer. I will do that."

"I will need you to drop by the station first thing in the morning to fill out some paperwork. I suggest you leave your car here so we can check for evidence linking that character to other recent crimes. I can have an officer drive you home."

At that point, my new hero, Mr. Smith interjected that he would be happy to drive me home.

"Oh, yes, I would be very grateful for a ride home. Thank you very much, Mr. Smith, I certainly shudder to think about what could have happened to me had you not spotted that man. "

"It's my pleasure, Miss. I'm just happy he didn't try to harm you while you were driving."

We waved to the officer and I left with my new friend. Mr. Smith opened the passenger door for me and made sure I was comfortably seated before shutting it. After pulling away from the police station, Mr. Smith asked me if I would like to stop at the local Denny’s Restaurant, for a cup of coffee, and perhaps a piece of pie. I was intrigued with this man, so I quickly accepted the invitation. He is quite handsome without that reaper costume covering his face. I was elated that I left that boring party early and found this kind gentleman; albeit, I was still a little shaken from the events of the evening. Thankfully, that awful stow-away man did not harm me. My jitters started to disappear; I felt safe with Mr. Smith, who insisted I call him Smitty.

We talked about the evening’s occurrences while sipping our coffee. I started laughing about my reaction toward him, and I apologized for the stupid mistake I made, thinking he was a crazy stalker. He smiled back at me and told me he understood perfectly why I was so frightened; after all, he did jump at my door and yell at me.

We spent hours talking, laughing, and exchanging phone numbers; so we could see each other again soon. He held my hand gently as we left the restaurant. He told me that they weren’t shaking anymore from the incident. I felt so grateful that I met Smitty. I secretly planned our next meeting in my mind.

He started driving, and I gave him the directions to my house. He got the car on course and I just sat back and began to breathe normally. I closed my eyes for a few minutes just to rest them. It had been a nerve-racking night, and now I just felt sleepy, and content. I do not remember how long my eyes were shut, but when I opened them, my surroundings seemed unfamiliar.

I told Smitty that I think he missed my exit a little ways back. He did not respond to me, so I reiterated my statement. Again, he ignored me. He just remained silent, and kept on driving. Consequently, I broke out into a cold sweat, as I viewed him placing a tape into the tape deck. It has such a creepy sound; it is...it is a dirge!

I reached for the handle, but it had been sawed off the door. I could not jump out of the car no matter how desperately I needed to do it. He pushed a red-lit button to the left of his steering wheel, and my seat began to recline, simultaneously strapping my arms making them immobile.

While I was lying there, trapped by those constraints, I tried to figure out a way to escape. However, just as I was planning my next move, I saw Mr. Smith press another button near the roof of the driver’s side.

This blue-lit button made a strange motor noise when he pressed it. I looked up, and I swear I could see the roof over my head coming closer. It is moving! My God, a section of the car roof is coming toward me. It fell slowly; inch by inch until the roof section was hovering within millimeters of my face.

Is this how I am supposed to die? Is it really over for me? My thoughts scrambled furiously as a prayer left my lips, which were now kissing the ceiling. It hurt so much feeling the facial bones breaking. My thoughts went to my feigned headache earlier this evening. I could not scream, now...I could only die.

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