Day 197: “Let’s go, sugarbeet,” he said and snapped on the light. He was holding two duffle bags, one very light, the other very heavy. It was her car, and she had slept with the keys.

Alison winced as the light attacked from the naked bulb. Shark was standing at the foot of the bed, with the two bags in his hands. She hated when he called her sugarbeet. It was her dad’s pet name for her and hearing it from the mouth of this monster in human form felt like sacrilege. She’d slept with the keys in her left hand, taped on so that he couldn’t get to them without waking her up. In her right was her knife, in case he decided to try.

“I said let’s go.” Shark kicked the bed, then turned towards the still open door. He’d just barged into the room, just as he had every night for the past two weeks.

“Just, give me a minute,” she replied. It made Shark pause in the doorway, still facing out into the cold winter’s night. She started peeling the tape from her hand, wincing as it tugged at her scarred skin. “I didn’t sleep very well, I just -”

“You’re not here to sleep. Five minutes, be at the car.” He stomped out into the night. He had the grey duffle bag over his shoulder, visibly bent against the weight of it. The black duffle bag in his left hand, however, didn’t faze him at all. For some reason, whatever was in the black duffle bag scared her far more than the grey one full of the things that clinked and clanked.

Alison sighed as he walked out into the night. She thought about making a run for it, the same as she had every night for the last fortnight. She could make a break for the police station they’d driven past yesterday as they looked for the motel. She could claim a kidnap, or a robbery gone wrong. She grabbed a handful of her flowing red hair, pulling it tight enough that her soft grey eyes began to water. She got herself ready to rip out a chunk, as if she’d escaped an attacker.She began to count in her head, down from three.

But she couldn’t remember which way they’d come in, the fog had fallen thick and fast, taking visibility down to six feet or so. It was like something out of a horror film. Deserted small town and thick fog. Shame that the monster was sat in the car with her instead.

She peeked out of the doorway to the motel’s office. No movement, no lights, no sign of escape. “Come on, sugarbeet! Moonlight’s burning!”

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.” She muttered, grabbing her knife from the table where she’d discarded it. She took one last look around this newest addition to her motel hall of fame, then shut the door behind her as she walked out into the swirling fog once more. Back to her little Nissan.

Back to Shark.

Just a short one to pique your interest tonight. Posing more questions than answers, that’s for sure. Rest assured, I’m fairly sure that Alison and Shark will be turning up in later shorts. 

Can I just check, how do you spell duffle? I’ve got the prompt saying ‘duffle’, my own knowledge saying ‘duffel’ and the internet saying both. Anybody know for certain?

The Idiot in Tin Foil