She came unexpected, in reverse. Out of nowhere her car slid down the hill, backwards. She sat behind the wheel in her four-door grey Buick, driving down the dead-end dirt road. She wore a twisted straw cowboy hat that sat wonky on her long grey hair. Her words were mumbles and quiet rants.
“….Keep them guessing, I always say. Keep them guessing.” She laughed as her car reversed into the lonely parking lot.
I sat there on the bench at the long-forgotten church, resting from my morning of tending the old graves who families had long since forgotten or they themselves had died out.
When she drove up backwards, I could see the bright orange frames of her dark sunglasses. Her hair blew straight up and tried to touch the top of her hat. She had an eerie look as her car went in backward circles throughout the parking lot. She kept on mumbling to herself as the dust rose higher and higher with every turn her car made.
“….Keep them guessing I always say. Let’s see what we got over here…”
Her car, still in reverse, glided through the parking lot.
“Keep them guessing, what do we have over here.” She repeated. “I’ll show them. Laugh at me, I’ll show them.”
The sun had disappeared and the dark clouds blew in with the wind. The Buick continued to drive around the parking lot in reverse. The low grumblings of the woman kept on too.
The crazy old woman must have realized I sat there on the bench because she stopped her car and looked right into my eyes. Into my soul.
“What do we have over here. Keep them guessing I always say.”
Quickly, she hit the gas pedal and in reverse her car came over to where I sat on the bench. She stopped with exaggeration. Her hair standing straight up, now touching the top of her twisted cowboy hat. She leaned out her window. Her sunglasses firmly affixed over her eyes. The creaking sound of the back driver’s side door as it opened.
“Well? Are you getting in or what?” She cackled.
I stood up.
Chris Writes 