Déjà vu

“You’re alone – on this stretch of road?” the man asks. “How stupid can you get?”

My fists clench. Hatred pulses through my veins. Something inside me shifts; and my mouth falls open, yet I can’t breathe. Paralyzed, I watch as the man’s red hair turns to a grayish brown, and I see his dark green eyes fade to blue. Then the freckles on his face disappear only to be replaced by creases and lines. He reaches into my car and removes the keys from the ignition then shuffles toward me just like my father’s done every night since I hit puberty. My limbs unlock. Each step the man takes toward me, I’m propelled one back. The blood pumps through my ears so loud that his words are unintelligible. All I see is my hypocritical, bible-thumping father heading in my direction to force himself on me . . . again! He rounds the car toward the trunk, keys poised and ready for insertion. The lock sticks. Dad crouches and wiggles the key.

Sun glints off the knife as I pull it from the sheath on my thigh. The weapon feels good in my hand; its weight calms me. Head cocked, all my senses are alive as I once again quietly approach the man who's made my life a living hell. A sense of release washes over me at the sound of blood gurgling in his throat; the blade's made a clean slice through my tormentor's wrinkled skin. Eyes closed, I savor the blessed moment.

Then I look down.

What I see before me, crumpled in a heap, is the body of a tall, redheaded man covered in freckles. And blood. Oh God, there's so much blood! Voices reverberate in my skull. It takes all I have to fight the urge to scream again. Dazed, I blink until my father’s license plate comes into focus.

But that can't be! We never lived in Nevada.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)