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Woman in Black

Submitted entry: I was on my home from the post office, my brief respite and exercise during the chaos of my day. It’s a fifteen or twenty minute round-trip, one I looked forward to. I had new comfy sneakers on my feet, warm layers, and headphones on my ears. One of Sarah’s mix cds was in the player in my pocket.

The walk up was uneventful and goes fast when I walk to the beat of whatever music is pounding in my ears. When I got my mail and exited the building, I pulled in from of another lady on barreling down the sidewalk. She was wearing all black. Black pants, black shoes, black shirt, black trench coat, flapping in the still-warm breeze.

On the way home from the post office, instead of going straight for the next two blocks, I normally turn right and go up two blocks and around, to make it longer and to work out my legs on the small hill. So I turned off to go up the quiet street by the church, and as I did I glanced behind me. Lady in Black had turned as well.

The song in my ears had changed, to one of spooky dreary teen-loss music, accented with cello. (”Miss you” - Blink 182) Images of the Gothic video flashed in my head, and I snuck a look again. Lady in Black was still behind me, gaining.

“Maybe she’s heading to the church,” I guessed, as it loomed up ahead of us, crystal blue sky above, golden leaves still on the trees, white spire pointing upwards. The cemetery just beyond. I hustled along past the church, involved in the next song, until I got to the part where Nickelback were singing, “I like my hands around your neck.” I turned around.

Behind me, Lady in Black was close enough to easily converse with. Which I didn’t.

I continued on to the end of the block, my house within running distance, the old abandoned cottage immediately on my right. “If I turn left here,” I thought to myself, “and so does she, I’m running for it.”

I turned left and looked behind me.

And here’s where it would make a good story if she was gone, but alas, she had turned right up the next street, away from me.

You can visit Andrea at Atypical Life, where she describes living in the wilds of Canada while homeschooling four children, from the ages of 4 to 17.

I’m awake!

Cowboy Grandma