Night of the Footsteps

I left my friend’s apartment at 2:45 that morning.  My mother always told me it’s not safe for a girl to walk the streets that time of night.  But crime in my neighborhood has been down, just about disappeared for two years now, thanks to our new Mayor.  But I was wearing my new skirt and heels and still felt a little uneasy.  So, I started to softly whistle.

The street was lonely and dark.  Except for the moon and a few street lights, there was no other illumination.  I kept a calm study pace while whistling my tune.  After a moment I stopped and turned around to look behind me, surely I heard another set of footsteps.  I wanted to call out, to see if someone was there, but my better judgment thought against it, so I turned back around and started my journey.  Only two blocks to my car, I thought with relief.

I started to walk a little faster.  With my head positioned straight ahead, my eyes rolled to the right, desperately trying to see behind me.  The footsteps picked up along with my own.  I slowed down only enough to take off my heels.  Hopping on the asphalt like a frog out of its element, I managed to get both shoes off.  I positioned them in each hand with the heels ready to be used weapons.  I removed my purse strap from my shoulder and laid it over my head and across my chest, like the sash on a beauty pageant winner.

In only my stockinged feet I could hear the footsteps more clearly now.  My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to suck in and release the stale, night air.  My legs started to shake as I begged them to run.  They took pity on me and tore down the pavement with precision speed.  I could hear the footsteps running behind me, getting closer, but, so was my car, I’m sure.

As my Volkswagen came into view I began to scream.  I threw my shoes to the ground and as I got closer to my car door, I fumbled in my purse and retrieved my keys.  I jammed the key in the lock and turned around for one more look behind me as I swung open the car door.  No one was there.  No footsteps.  No shadows.  Not a sign of life behind me.  Could it have been my imagination? 

I sat in my car and locked the doors.  The lamppost flickered off and on in the parking lot.  I rested my head down on the steering wheel as I tried to catch my breath and get back to normal.  After a few seconds with study, and calm breathing, I turned the key in the ignition, and just as my head came up above the dashboard, my eyes foucused in on him, standing in front of my car.  The lamppost flickered off for the last time.