The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

128
Scream
Megan Whiting
It was a stupid move. A really stupid move.
You know in those bad horror films, when the ditzy teenage girl puts herself in the
most dangerous situation possible and you scream at the TV? That level of stupid.
Perhaps if someone had screamed at me I would have made a better decision that day.
Perhaps I’d sleep soundly at night.
As it happened, I was late leaving work and so hungry I felt physically sick. At twentythree
and with no idea what I wanted to do with my life, I had accepted a temporary
position at the local council office, inputting data onto spreadsheets. Most of the time I
was bored out of my mind. My manager couldn’t generate work quickly enough for me,
so I spent many an afternoon plaiting and re-plaiting my blonde, waist-length hair as I
sat at my desk and waited for something to do. The guys in the office were enthralled
by my hair. The women, less so. I think they assumed I was just too lazy to get it cut.
My boyfriend, Ashley (the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, though of course I’m
slightly biased) worked as a chef at a posh restaurant in the next town. He was making
my favourite dinner that night- oxtail lasagne. It was all I could think about. So when it
came to choosing my route home, I opted for the shortest one.
I’d promised Ash I wouldn’t cut through the woods. Regardless of the time of day,
he’d made me swear to take the long way home. Countless stories of ‘dodgy people
lurking behind trees’ had freaked him out and he didn’t want me taking ‘unnecessary
risks’.
For a whole month, I kept my promise. I finished work at 5pm and was home by