In typical Oregon fashion its starts to rain, the fog is lifting off the road and billowing around my truck. I can't see anything and I want to panic. Growing up in the outskirts of California I knew what being alone felt like. I was sure as hell afraid of the dark, but I knew how to work in situations similar to these. This isn't the first time the truck has broken down on me and I'm sure it will not be the last. Jumping out of my truck I open the tool box attached to the cab and grab the emergency flashlight and poncho dad always insisted be with me. The poncho is a horrid florescent green. Even worse it's more of a cartoon vomit color, sure its awful but it will keep the rain off me. Last thing I would want is to be cold and soaked.
Trekking through forest isn't such a wonderful adventure when you are alone and unaware of your location. Let alone it being dark and foggy. The close to moonless night making the fog glow an erie white. I follow the black top road anyways. The shadows making the near pitch black darkness even more terrifying. The flashlight only illuminating a few feet in front of me, it is not necessarily the dark I'm afraid of its the unknown. There could be a mass murderer creeping through the woods following me ready to make his move, or a pack of rabid wolves closing in on me to be their prey, hell what if a vampire is watching me calculating how he will suck my blood. I giggle at the last thought. I've watched too many Vampire Diaries episodes. I'm just being crazy because I happen to be alone in what seems to be the middle of absolute nowhere. I swear shadows keep moving through the fog around me blurring my already terrible field of vision. It almost feels as though some one is watching me. I swear I feel breath against my neck and I turn quickly and scream. An owl, really Jocelyn you are afraid of those that go "hoot" in the night get a grip of yourself. An owl flying through the forrest should not make you jump out of your skin. I continue on my feet now soaked through from the rain and goosebumps I can feel cover my body from the cold, and my fright from the owl. Up a few ahead I see the most rickety decomposed sign that reads in chipped blood red paint "Sang nt Populat" I get closer only to notice it really says "Sanguine Point Population 358" Talk about a small town. I hope the town isn't much further my feet are nearly icicles and my legs are about to give way from underneath my body.
The roar of an engine traveling startlingly fast from being me draws me out of my thoughts. Turning the light of a Harley Davidson is cutting through the dense dark fog and slows to a stop. The rider flips up the hood from his helmet and in a sensual gruff voice spits out " Must be you who's broken down back there, didn't see anyone near the vehicle and though it must be two crap kids trying to do the dirty in the forest" he looked at me icy black eyes piercing through me "So where is your boyfriend a girl like you shouldn't be alone especially not 'round these parts ".
Furious with this mans audacity to assume I would go and defile the woods like some teenage hoodlum I replied in as snarky as a tone my chilled lips could muster "I am not a girl and my truck has broken down yet again. I do not need to be shamed for being alone either."
He grunts back in a response. Stands off his bike and reaches into the saddle for a poncho. I'm not startled by his movements more of his size. He must be around six eight a tall man but his build is that of a well tuned machine. His movements fast and fluid he removes his helmet and shoves it at my stomach. Temporarily knocking me off balance and adorns the poncho.
"Get on if you want a ride into town, I happen to be the only person you want to see prowling around the woods at this time of night" he all but bites out.
"Oh uhm ok thank you" I am quite taken aback by his generosity. Though he is rude as hell to talk to, a man should never leave a woman stranded in the rain let alone the dark. So I attempt to throw one gangly leg over the side of the bike and fail miserably. I loose my balance like the luckless klutz I am and he catches me. A second ago he wasn't even close to me. Yet here he is piercing eyes looking straight through the helmet into my own. The helmet is heavy on my head and I'm dizzy from my fall but I swear he pulled me a bit closer and smelled my hair.
Righting me he picked me up as if I weighted little more than a feather and sat me upon the Harley. It was a beautiful bike, even in the dark I knew it was one of the higher end models my father always drooled over. He clambered on behind me and revved the engine to life.
The bike took off through the fog and the wind whipped my hair out from the helmet and was surely smacking him in the face. As we rode on I couldn't help but wonder where this man was coming from, who he was, and why on earth he is so massive. No man should surely be so large. What must his work out routine be to make him so, well like he is. I can feel the tautness of his jacket and the poncho he has on rubbing against my back. He seems to just engulf me on this bike and after what seems to be an eternity of darkness and rain on the winding hillside road we slow down into what I'm assuming is Sanguine Point.
A strange name for a town indeed but it is what it is. From what I can see there is a quaint dinner still open by the name of "Fran's" and a bar off to the back of the same lot called "Suds". I'm sure there are more stores but with the lights off in all of them its impossible to know. We pull to a stop at Fran's. He all but knocks over the bike putting down the kickstand, extends a rough gloved hand to me and helps me dismount the bike.
I know people talk about sea legs, but bike legs should also be a thing. I can still feel the vibrations running through my numb cold legs. He doesn't look at me he rips of his poncho tossing it into the trash bin outside of Fran's door and hunches into the doorframe leaving me out in the cold staring after the most confusing of saviors. Not knowing what to do with the helmet I take it off and walk inside with it. My body is dripping rain everywhere.
An older woman about fifty all but screeches "Darren you little shit you've been gone too long and now look at you dripping all over my floors" she comes to a halt just in front of me "Oh dear me you must be freezing love, come into the back we'll get you cleaned up," turning back to Darren "And you best start re mopping my floors you imbecile you know I mop at seven thirty sharp"
YOU ARE READING
Sanguine Point
ParanormaleRunning from everything has seemed to be the only option for Jocelyn. Her fathers Chevy pickup, her book, a letter she has yet to read, and fear are the only things she has left. Running from what a destiny she doesn't know she has. That is until sh...
