She Walked
Shortlisted submission for the Writing Challenge for 2025's Southern Screen.
The Theme: Read Between the Lines.
Word count: 1001
There are a few more ideas of this type bouncing around in my brain.
A young woman cannot recall how she came to be on a lonely Louisiana highway at night.
Cecile tugged at the sleeve of her dress. It was torn and dirty. She looked around and tried to recall how she came to be here alone. She struggled to remember the details of the evening. There had been a party, or perhaps she had gone to the dance hall. She remembered drinks, and handsome young men. There had been one. Eddie. She remembered him. Eddie invited her onto the dance floor, and she smiled at the memory of the slower song later in the evening. The details were still unclear.
She stepped onto the road and began to walk.
The road went on into the ink-black night. Light was diminished from overhead. The moon peaked tiny beams through the old live oak trees that reached across the asphalt. The small fingers of light cast shadows of Spanish moss where the light broke through. It swayed in the evening air. The trees went on along the winding highway. They were like a grove of twisted guardians, with gnarled fingers that pointed at passers-by. Cecile tried to peer beyond them. She was met with darkness.
She searched for any sign of Eddie. Where could he have gone? He had a car. It was a fast car. She could recall him inviting her for a ride. Cecile initially declined the invitation, but it had been merely a ploy of playing hard to get. Ultimately, she acquiesced.
Eddie drove fast. He drove a bit faster than she had been comfortable with. However, she smiled and did not fuss over it, even if the tires hugged the curves at a frightening pitch. The fog floated in veils, and Eddie’s headlights moved so quickly that the lines were blurred against the reflection of the fine moisture in the air. She watched the trees fly past in a blur in the darkness.
And yet, he was not here. Eddie had left her. She had been on the side of the road, confused. Cecile began to cry. She wanted to go home. She continued to walk. She had the sensation of being watched from beyond the trees. All manner of wildlife lived within the trees, and to the other side of the highway, the marsh and swamp. Cypress trees were nestled within the murky wetlands, their knees punctuating the surface of swamp lilies and swamp grass. She listened for the low growl of alligators. Instead, the lonesome bellow of a bullfrog seeking its mate joined the chorus of rain frogs crying for a storm. She kept walking. Cecile searched for signs of a house beyond the trees. A nice house, with a nice yard, with a nice family who might allow her to use their telephone to call her parents. She began to worry that she might only find hunters or less than savory people who would cause her harm. And then there were the stories of the Feu Follet that might lead her deep into the swamp. Or the Rougarou that might take her as a victim.
Cecile wept now. She could not recall when she started walking, nor for how long she had been traveling this stretch of highway. Cecile shivered. She was growing colder as she walked, though the air smelled sweetly of summer honeysuckle. She realized that she had been walking without her shoes. It seemed impossible that she had never noticed before. She had been walking for so long that she could scarcely feel her feet anymore. They were numb. Everything was numb. She tugged again at her sleeves, trying to warm her skin. She could not recall the last time she saw a car, or even a house. It felt as though she was walking in place. The road appeared to go on and on and never ended. But she knew it ended, and so she continued to walk.
Beyond the S-curve ahead, lights illuminated the stand of trees. Cecile felt her heart leap in relief. She hoped that it was a police car that she might have flagged down for assistance. She watched the lights as they slid along the highway. The lights were a beacon of hope. She stood near the side of the road, ready to wave to them. The car drew ever closer, coming at a reasonable pace. Would the car come too fast to see her on the side of the road in the dark? Yes, she would have to step into the road to stop them. Cecile walked towards the lights, down the center line.
The lights kept coming. Cecile was sure they must see her. She was in the middle of the highway. Even in the dark, the lights must be hitting on her dress. It was bright yellow. It was impossible to miss. The car rounded the second curve. It would soon reach the straightaway on which she had been walking. Cecile kept walking towards the car, waving her arms frantically to get the driver’s attention.
The car was not slowing. It kept coming as though they could not see her. Cecile felt panic in her throat. They must see her! She was in the middle of the road. She yelled at them to stop, waved in a panic as the lights hit her. It took a full moment’s time to understand that the car was not going to stop. She heard the horn sound. The driver saw her, but it was too late. In reflex, put her hands out as though to stop the car from making impact. She squeezed her eyes closed, bracing for the sensation of being hit. Cecile felt the shiver run through her. She felt weightless for a moment.
When she opened her eyes, she was on the side of the road. Red taillights continued down the highway past her. Cecile stood up, and looked back towards the long, dark highway. She could not recall how she got here. She did not know for how long she had been walking.
Cecile wanted to go home. She began to walk.