Belinda was a nasty middle-aged woman, but her behaviours were characteristic of someone older.
She was mentally and physically sound; however, the pucker of her frown never left her face. Wrinkles indented themselves deeply into her forehead, around her eyes, and around her mouth; her skin was pasty white.
She pretended to walk feebly; but when a neighbourhood child or dog was near her property she ran out screaming, wearing stodgy Victorian gowns, no skin showing but her face and hands. Her hair was always severely pulled back in a tight bun.
Besides a cat or four, she disliked everyone. She made known she had cut her family out of her will. All her money would go to a stern Catholic congeragation she had terrorized since she was four.
An old trailer and burned-out truck from a cousin who had lived with her, remained on her lawn, even after the cousin disappeared. No one who entered Belinda’s house came back out, only her cats.
The neighbours thought this had been occurring for some three-hundred years, having heard the same stories from their great-grandparents and before.
Was Belinda a ghost? A banchee? A witch? No one knew. But every now and then someone disappeared inside her doorway and everyone knew that person wouldn’t be returning.
“I love that you can find spirals from the tiniest places (our DNA) to massive expanses (the Milky Way) and everywhere in between. Free write about spiraling and see where you go – do you spiral up or down? Find where this word takes you and go from there.”
Fort McMurray is an oil town and that means many jobs for those who are skilled at oil wells. It’s camps aren’t the nicest place for a woman to work but at least a girl can make good money simply working in hospitality, managing and handing out the keys to the rooms the oil workers and staff stay in. My boyfriend Jack, works out at an oil well. We drive up to camp together in his SUV.
I could tell on this trip back home to Edmonton from the camp, Jack was angry. He thought I was flirting with some other men the other day. I was just being nice, it’s hard not having many other women not to talk to. So, now Jack believes that I’m always flirting with other men and he thinks I should stay in the city and get a job there.
We are arguing in the SUV loudly. Jack is threatening to throw me out on the highway, even though it’s cold and dark. I beg him not to but he has had enough and he stops the car, comes round to my side, and throws me, my purse, and suit case on the side of the road.
Now I’m walking down the highway at night. My jacket is thin, my feet are in flats, and no car or truck seems to see me wave. My iPhone is dead, not that it mattered, I can’t get a signal out here.
I kick the ground frustrated and angry at Jack and my situation and before I can stop myself my foot slips into a hole at the road side. My ankle twists, I scream and hear the snapping sound my ankle makes as it breaks.
Now it’s colder outside still. I can hear the creatures of the night in the wilderness near me. It’s finally twilight and my ankle throbs. No one sees me sitting so close to the ground and in tears as the sun rises. I wonder when they’ll find me. If only Jack had believed me.