Twisted Perception - Second serialized post - Ch 1, continued

Twisted Perception

Michelle Baker stepped off the stage and tried to ignore the remnants of the night’s audience, the leering faces, each sharing a fantasy they thought their own, and it went through her again, one of those black-hole feelings that sucks you in and tells you you’re not getting out, no matter what you do. The doctors called it depression. Michelle called it life, because it had always been that way for her. But there were moments, like that time in Florida, early in the season before the heat set in. A stiff breeze had come off the sea and rolled back the clouds, leaving the moon and stars contrasting against the black sky. Then the dark haired man with rope sandals in his hand slid his arm around her, just as natural as that, and they walked along the beach talking of life as if it were theirs. There had been no darkness then.

Her shift was over. She was going home. She could have her mother pack some clothes and together they could drive down to South Texas, spend a few days at Padre Island.

Lisa, another dancer, a soft little brunette who’d only been there about a month, intentionally brushed against Michelle as she walked past.

“Hey, sweetie,” she whispered.

Michelle smiled but said nothing. It came with the territory in these places, the girls loving each other. You learn to hate men so you turn lesbian. The problem with that is after a few weeks, or months, or however long it takes you, you start to hate women too. And where does that leave you? In hell, she guessed.

She didn’t even rehearse anymore, worrying over the steps and the music. None of that really mattered. She was a stripper, beginning her act with suggestive clothing and ending with nothing but an idea. It was, though, the boring monotony—the same faces, the same looks and catcalls—that allowed one to detach from it all and exist in such a world. But there were exceptions, those nights when someone would stand out from the crowd, their eyes searching deeper than her nakedness, and that scared her, for she knew the thoughts of such people went beyond fantasy, and they would make them real, given half a chance. She had not seen anyone like that tonight, but the fearful feelings that surrounded those encounters wrapped around her thoughts, and lingered heavy as she said good-bye to the other dancers and stepped outside into the rain.

The Guardian of Route 66

A few years ago -- quite a few actually -- while attending classes at what was then called Central State university, located in Edmond, Oklahoma, I had an unusual experience.

Actually it happened after class during the drive home. I was married and had a fulltime job, which left me attending night classes to continue my education. The duration of class was three hours, starting at 6:00 PM and letting out at 9:00. Since I was already out of class and on the way, the incident occurred between 9:20 and 9:30 PM. At the time, I was driving an old MG, which had a few annoying if not dangerous idiosyncrasies. One of the treacherous traits was a faulty light switch, which, on occasion, would cause the lights to go out.Toggling the switch in rapid succession brought them back on.

The trip home consisted of an eighteen mile drive, originating on East Second Street in Edmond. It was there, at the point where Second Street curves into Highway 66 that it happened. Just as I was about to enter the curve, I saw a man dressed in a robe, like that of an ancient Greek or Roman, and he was walking alongside the highway. That's when the lights went out. At the time, there were no houses, buildings or even streetlights located in the area, so when the lights went out, they went out. I was plunged into total darkness. My immediate concern was that, without being able to see where I was going, I ran the risk of running over the unusual pedestrian. I began to jab the dashboard until I found the light switch then continued to toggle the switch. Seconds later, when the lights came back on, I'd traveled a distance of about 300 feet, somehow successfully maneuvering the curve.

Fear shot through me as I brought the MG to a stop. No other cars were on the road and I saw no one in front of me. I quickly turned the car around. I had neither heard nor felt anything hit the vehicle, but I wanted to make sure that I had not hurt or possibly even killed the pedestrian. I saw no one. I went past the curve then turned around and drove through again. After that, I parked on the shoulder where the incident had occurred and got out of the car and searched the area. I found nothing. Later I would examine the car and find no damage.

As I continued the drive home, details of the event played through my head, and I began to wonder if perhaps I'd seen an angel, who'd brought me to an alert status, helping me to make the curve on Route 66 when the lights went out.

This is a true story. I'd love to hear about your experiences. If you have something you'd like to share, please leave a comment, or email me at bob@bobavey.com. You can remain anonymous if you wish.