I had to drive around a few times tonight to find a good parking space. The two I usually use were both full. And to make this clear, I should say that Bay Street has two sort of access alleys that branch off it so one can get the the garages of the houses, which are all detached and behind the house itself. Quite cute. So I'm driving along and can't really find a spot.
Needing to turn around, I head for the roundabout. And that's when my headlights sweep across the thing standing in the center of it, among the flowers in the circle of juniper bushes. At first, it looks like a scarecrow.
But its arms are moving. So I turn right, onto Bay again, and I take a left into the opposite back street from the one I usually use, and there's a space ... but I can't get that thing out of my head. So I pass the space and take a left out of the alley, heading back to the roundabout.
It's still there. It's moving its arms, rhythmically, down near what I assume are hips, the same way one would shake pudding off one's hands ... only it's constant. And I realize that I've been sitting there for a while, with the headlights lighting this thing up, and the car is completely still.
Except it's not still, because I've slowly been rolling closer, trying to see it better. I can't tell what the shape of the head is. I can't tell if it's someone with a burlap sack over their head or if this person is just horribly deformed. And I am looking at it from the back, so it's hard to tell what's up with the face. For a moment, I chuckle: from the back, it looks like Grandpa Simpson.
But when I laugh, it goes still. And my hackles are up. And it's the same peculiar electric feeling of being watched that I had the other night when I thought I saw someone behind the truck down the street from where I parked. It seems to be listening. And suddenly I realize that I am way too close to the juniper bushes and that if I want to get away from this thing, I have to back the car up. But my steering's all fucked up right now, and when I'm going under 15 mph, it makes a sound like a giant baby bird being put through a corn thresher. So now I'm frozen in place, not wanting it to see me, not wanting to look away or move to make sure the passenger door is locked. If it heard me chuckle, what else can it hear?
Its head is beginning to loll from side to side, left first, as though it is ecstatically hearing music and drunk. And suddenly I realize, this is just some kid wearing a hoodie! She or he is either drunk, stoned or heavily medicated -- maybe even mentally problemed -- and is listening to an iPod or something. I realize that I need to do my Good Samaritan bit for the day and get this kid home. I am, after all, adjunct faculty at Solano College. This is the kind of thing I should do.
So I get out of the car and as I open the door, the kid's head cocks sharply to the left and she or he begins to turn to me; my sleeve catches on the emergency brake for a second -- when did I set the brake? -- and I'm distracted. But then I'm up and out of the car and the kid is gone. But I didn't hear it run through bushes or anything. And I can hear breathing. And it's right on the other side of the juniper bushes.
And it's watching me.
© 2010, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
The Night-time Creeper
My car was broken into last night, here in Suisun City. I had gone for a couple of drinks with Holli Hornlien after watching the Vacaville cast of Millie perform. They were delightful in many respects; not so delightful in others. The drinks were because we both like Manhattans.
The house I'm staying in is on Bay Street, a very nice little neighborhood; there are a lot of cars parked at night on the side spaces in the backyard side of the streets and so I was lucky to find one of my usual close ones. I thought I locked the car. I was drunk, though, so I may not have. But it is my habit always to lock the car.
When I came out today, my radio was gone, both doors were unlocked and the rear hatch was ajar, the little red indicator light glowing on the dashboard. They broke the glove compartment, too. So I don't know what to do about this, do I report it? Do I tell my insurance guy, who always raises the rates on my parents when things go awry? I don't really trust him. Sorry, Tony, but if you raise the rates, why should I report ANYTHING to you? It's probably less expensive to replace the radio, you fucktoad.
It's 2:36 am. I went to Denny's tonight with a couple cast members. We left at 2:11, it's not a long drive, so I was back here by about 2:23. I'm one space closer to the house I'm staying in, and I just sat in my car for a bit, thinking about the stolen radio. It occurred to me that it's late, and the same thieves are probably out tonight. I got out of my car and closed and locked my door, then went around to check the passenger side. It was locked.
I walked around to the driver's side and just looked off down the street toward the spot where my car was burgled last night. Still and silent in the moonlit night, I watched the minivan in that spot. And then something caught my attention beyond it. It looked as though someone on their knees was just crawling forward out of sight behind a truck, and what I was seeing was their right leg as it moved out of sight. It could also have been a black cat. But cats don't move like a leg.
I walked toward the truck, pretty far down the street, and at that moment the movement-sensor lights on that house went on. I was too far away to have been the cause of the lights; something near them had moved. I kept walking closer and became sharply aware of an electrifying sensation that I was being watched.
The closer I got to the truck, the more goosebumps rose on my arms and legs. My hackles were up, the hair on the back of my head and all down my spine standing up like thorns. As I stood looking toward the back of the truck, I was certain that if I stood there long enough or if I'd had a flashlight with me, I would be able to see the culprit. I know whoever was there could see me. I could sense them watching me. I know they know which car I got out of. I know they know I'm wise to their game.
At least I think I know all that. But the longer I stood there, the less certain I was that what I had seen was a thief's leg. The more I began to wonder if something darker, more sinister was lurking there in the shadows. Isn't that how it always is? Fred Jones' car was burgled last night and tonight, by God, he's going to get the motherfuckers! But when he charges into the bushes, he's waylaid by sharp-toothed toad minions of shadow who suck his soul out through his testicles.
So I walked away. And the farther I got away from the truck, the lower my hackles lay. Finally, as I let myself into Sue's house I began to feel more normal. But I was very aware of the relative insecurity of a house or a car. It's alarming to think that someone can break in while one is in one's home. Or while one is sleeping just down the way from where one left one's car.
But it's just plain chilling to consider what might have actually been waiting for me in the leafy moonshadowed backyard access of picturesque Bay Street in Suisun City.
© 2010, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.
The house I'm staying in is on Bay Street, a very nice little neighborhood; there are a lot of cars parked at night on the side spaces in the backyard side of the streets and so I was lucky to find one of my usual close ones. I thought I locked the car. I was drunk, though, so I may not have. But it is my habit always to lock the car.
When I came out today, my radio was gone, both doors were unlocked and the rear hatch was ajar, the little red indicator light glowing on the dashboard. They broke the glove compartment, too. So I don't know what to do about this, do I report it? Do I tell my insurance guy, who always raises the rates on my parents when things go awry? I don't really trust him. Sorry, Tony, but if you raise the rates, why should I report ANYTHING to you? It's probably less expensive to replace the radio, you fucktoad.
It's 2:36 am. I went to Denny's tonight with a couple cast members. We left at 2:11, it's not a long drive, so I was back here by about 2:23. I'm one space closer to the house I'm staying in, and I just sat in my car for a bit, thinking about the stolen radio. It occurred to me that it's late, and the same thieves are probably out tonight. I got out of my car and closed and locked my door, then went around to check the passenger side. It was locked.
I walked around to the driver's side and just looked off down the street toward the spot where my car was burgled last night. Still and silent in the moonlit night, I watched the minivan in that spot. And then something caught my attention beyond it. It looked as though someone on their knees was just crawling forward out of sight behind a truck, and what I was seeing was their right leg as it moved out of sight. It could also have been a black cat. But cats don't move like a leg.
I walked toward the truck, pretty far down the street, and at that moment the movement-sensor lights on that house went on. I was too far away to have been the cause of the lights; something near them had moved. I kept walking closer and became sharply aware of an electrifying sensation that I was being watched.
The closer I got to the truck, the more goosebumps rose on my arms and legs. My hackles were up, the hair on the back of my head and all down my spine standing up like thorns. As I stood looking toward the back of the truck, I was certain that if I stood there long enough or if I'd had a flashlight with me, I would be able to see the culprit. I know whoever was there could see me. I could sense them watching me. I know they know which car I got out of. I know they know I'm wise to their game.
At least I think I know all that. But the longer I stood there, the less certain I was that what I had seen was a thief's leg. The more I began to wonder if something darker, more sinister was lurking there in the shadows. Isn't that how it always is? Fred Jones' car was burgled last night and tonight, by God, he's going to get the motherfuckers! But when he charges into the bushes, he's waylaid by sharp-toothed toad minions of shadow who suck his soul out through his testicles.
So I walked away. And the farther I got away from the truck, the lower my hackles lay. Finally, as I let myself into Sue's house I began to feel more normal. But I was very aware of the relative insecurity of a house or a car. It's alarming to think that someone can break in while one is in one's home. Or while one is sleeping just down the way from where one left one's car.
But it's just plain chilling to consider what might have actually been waiting for me in the leafy moonshadowed backyard access of picturesque Bay Street in Suisun City.
© 2010, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.
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