October Rain

At the end of the art fair, she carefully packed her paintings in the back seat, cleaned up her display area, and started for home. Her plan was to trade the speed of the interstate for the marvelous autumn color of the foothills of the Smokey’s. The two-lane blacktop wound it’s way through a maze of red and yellow hardwoods punctuated by the rich green of the Georgia pines. She’d have about an hour before dusk to drink in the hues mixed on Mother Nature’s pallet, and then another hour to her front door. On the long winter nights ahead, she’d add her spirit to those colors and transfer them to oils and canvas.


Had it been just a little earlier, had the sun not dived behind the foothills so quickly, she might have seen the deer in time to stop. The flash of light brown on the side of the road, and then the glowing red eyes as the buck and two does ran in front of her car caused her to panic. She stomped the brake pedal as hard as she could and tried to steer around the lead doe. Another flash of brown at her side window was all she saw before the car bounced hard through the road ditch and then came to a stop.


When she could breathe again, she checked herself for injuries. Finding none, she put the car in reverse and started backing up to the highway. The wheels were turning, but she was making no progress. She tried going forward, then back again to rock the car out of the low spot, but it was stuck fast.


She sat there for a minute, then reached for her cell phone and dialed her husband. The phone’s cold response was "NO SERVICE". She tried again and again with the same result. Throwing the phone back into her open purse, she sighed and then felt the tightening in her throat that would bring the tears of fear if she let it.


It was then she remembered the small house she’d seen only a few minutes ago. There had been a light in the window. Light meant people, and people meant a phone. She could walk back, call her husband, and wait there until he came to get her. She got the flashlight from the glove box, locked her car, and started walking back the way she’d come.


The few minutes travel by car had stretched into ten on foot, and she still didn’t see the lighted window. After another five, she thought of turning back, but the night was getting cold, the flashlight was growing dim, and spending the night in her car was not something she thought would be fun. She had walked a few more minutes when the first lightening bolt split the sky in two. The thunder that followed seemed to bring more lightening, some of it so close she could feel a tingle in the air. Then it began to rain. The first few spattering drops became a gentle shower and then a raging thunderstorm. In seconds, she was soaked to the skin.


At least the lightening helped her see the way, and at last the dim little square of yellow light greeted her from between the swaying trees. She breathed a sigh of relief just before another bolt of lightening hit a big tree to her left. Her instinctive jump landed her in the flooded road ditch. She finally made her way out, but slipped and fell down several times in the process.

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