I had a lot on my mind as I headed home, walking in the fading light of the day. The twilight did nothing to improve my overall mood. The air was saturated with the heavy scent of autumn—decaying, musty leaves. Sloan crossed my mind and soul in every possible direction.
A cold breeze picked up, sending a shiver down my spine. I looked around, confused, startled--maybe more uneasy.
Then I saw it.
A huddled figure on the side of the road, up ahead.
What is that? I approached slowly, unsure of the figure. The nurse in me kept me going, pushing me forward, thinking that I may be able to help. I knelt down next to the figure. Oh my gosh, it’s Sloan. He looked different…odd, in a way! I was stunned. He moaned—deep, guttural. I became frantic.
“Sloan!” I cried. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Get away,” he muttered. “Get away from me!”
I ignored him and tried to pull him up, but he pushed me away, sending me backwards, into the gutter.
I moved to push myself from the ground, but stopped. There was someone—or something—standing beside me. Slowly, I turned to look up at the figure.
“You!” The figure grabbed me. I could almost see the steam spurting from her ears. “All of this is your fault!”
“It’s your wife!” I yelled to Sloan.
“I know,” Sloan murmured. “I told you she is bat shit crazy. You need to run.”
I turned to look her in the face, terrified.
Perhaps she’s right, I thought. I am having an affair with a married man, after all. Maybe all of this is my fault.
But then a tiny voice in the back of my mind spoke up: You love Sloan, remember?
I climbed to my feet. “I hate you,” I yelled. “And I love him.” I motioned to Sloan, who still lay crumpled on the side of the road, moaning in pain. I couldn’t do anything to help him—not now, at least.
Sloan’s wife cackled, and my eyes grew wide. I watched in disgust as the woman before me grew hunched over, her chin extended in length, and her skin withered before my eyes. She was a witch!
“You two will be happy together, then,” his wife said. “I made him pay,” she added. “Look!”
I turned to look at Sloan. Finally I saw his face. There stood a bloodthirsty werewolf, drawn back on all fours and ready to pounce. A guttural growl escaped his throat.
He’s going to kill me, I thought. I turned to flee—but my path was blocked. I was trapped.
Tune in next week for A Pinnacle Halloween Tale: Part Two!