She was a witch. Simon knew that before he had finished studying her. He had not seen her before but there was something about her that screamed witch. He imagined that she stood a bit more bent over leaning on a gnarled broom with a tight bundling of twigs at its end. He laughed at the thought. Of course she was not a witch. She just looked like what he expected witches to look like. He leaned over to Penelope to tell her how prejudice he was against certain looks, how sure he was that she was a witch because of the way she looked. Penelope was staring at the woman as well, and she looked frightened.

“Are you okay,” Simon asked Penelope. She did not respond. Simon shook her a little on her shoulder and Penelope took a few steps back outside the rest stop. She banged into the door and used her back to open it. Charles had already gone to the restroom as Penelope continuing backing away from the door until she was outside. Simon followed her outside. When he was outside the glass doors, he glanced back inside to see where the witch had disappeared to. He did not see her beyond the doors. He cupped his hands on to the glass and peered through the darkened look. He jumped back when he saw the witches face staring back at him from the other side of the window.

Penelope had not stopped backing up. She was almost in to the street when Simon caught up with her and put his arm around her shoulders so she would not step into the traffic. She was staring at the dark door which remained closed. From the outside, the door had a mirror effect. His heart was still racing from seeing the witch lady on the other side of the glass. She was even scarier up close. There was a large cake of powder over her entire face. Her skin looked ready to slide off her face. The face, though. It was the face that he somehow remembered.

“How do you know that woman?” Simon asked. Penelope shook her head in answer. “Do you know this, this witch? What’s gotten into you, Penelope? Speak to me.”

Penelope did not answer. Simon led her back to his car and held open the door while she stepped in. She turned her head to face the door, watching, he knew, for the witch to appear. He was not sure what she would do if the witch appeared. “Tell me what’s going on,” Simon said, again. “I know that woman. I’m sure I do. And Charles is in there with her. I’ve never seen you so quiet. What is going on?”

The next words out of Penelope’s mouth were very quiet. Simon leaned in to listen to her, but he could not hear her. She was whispering something but the air barely left her mouth and did not vibrate her vocal cords. The windows inside the car began to fog up from the change in temperature after they opened the door. Finally Penelope stopped whispering and began speaking. “I have seen her before,” she said. “This is going to sound very strange, but she’s been in my dreams, Simon. I have seen her there, holding something for me. I have never seen this woman before, and she’s been haunting my dreams. I thought it was a figment, like something imagined from my childhood, but there she was, in the flesh. I thought I was going crazy until you saw her too.”

“Is she some type of witch in your dream?” Simon asked. They were outside of Fishs Eddy, and he could not understand what was going on. Why did they know this lady and what did she bring them. Why did they both know her?

“Witch?” Penelope asked. She still looked far away. He knew she was reliving her dream life, seeing it from a new perspective. The witch lady was not just a dream. She was very real, and they had both seen her. “I don’t know what she is in my dream,” Penelope said. “She’s there and she’s been haunting me for the last few months. Not every night, but just when I think I am about to forget her, she shows up again. She’s always watching me, waiting for me to do something. I never know what I’m supposed to do, however. I am afraid to ask her what she expects of me. This is strange. I can’t believe I am telling you this.”

“I can’t believe you did not tell me this before,” Simon said. “What is the use of talking if you do not share these parts of you? I want to know all your parts, and knowing about this woman before would have at least warned me of what was going on inside of you before now.” Simon was angry at Penelope because there was so much she never shared with him. He wanted to be everything to her. Perhaps it was time to admit he would never be that for her.

“You have that strange look in your face again,” Penelope said. “I hate it when you get that look. It is like you are trying to decide if the amount I torture you is worth it to remain with me. You know the answer to that, of course. I only torture you because you love it.”

Simon did not have a reaction to what Penelope said. On a deep level, he knew it was true. He did enjoy the mystery of her, the almost impossibility of reaching her. He had been with many girls who showed him much more affection, and he had rebuffed them for being too clingy, or for not understanding his needs. Here, when he finally finds someone who paradoxically understands his needs, he always puts himself in these awkward positions where he’s broadcasting those needs at the same time as trying to escape from their reality. He does not understand their reality and he understands why he needs that reality even less. But what he does understand is that he lives in the reality and he needs to own up to it. He should not make light of it or try to judge her because of it. “What?” Simon asked, trying to look innocent. “I was not thinking anything of the sort. I was worried about Charles, locked in the rest area with that crazy witch of a woman. I think we should go in there and try to rescue her.”

Penelope smiled with such a knowing smile that Simon could not help but love her even more at that moment. She knew him better than he knew himself. That she had figured him out and found that not only what she happy to meet her needs, but that his needs aligned perfectly with her own needs, for that fact alone she was happy. That she could expand on it and make it real, for that they were both happy.

Simon opened the car door and stepped out. The air was so much more refreshing and cleaner than in Texas. He walked to the other side of his old, beat-up car and opened the door for Penelope. She put her left sneaker out of the car and he took her hand and helped her out the rest of the way. Her white sneakers were exceptionally clean and had small colored balls hanging off the ends of the shoelaces. He knew that the balls were her own, that nobody in the world had used those exact balls for this exact reason. She would never do that: she was an original and would only use repurposed objects for such designs.

They walked to the door, and Simon, taking a deep breath, opened the door to find a bewildered looking Charles on the other side.

“I wondered where you went,” Charles said, looking a bit perplexed but relieved.

Simon did not answer but walked around Charles, looking for the strange lady that had been at the door only minutes before. His eyes ran along the entire rest area, along the food court and the small touristy shops, but he did not see her. The rest area was only lightly occupied at this early hour. He wandered around looking for the lady, checking the seating area and then the shops. He met Charles and Penelope near the door. Penelope was explaining about the witchy woman when Simon returned.

“Any luck,” she asked.

“No, I did not find her,” Simon said. “Since there is only one exit and entrance, she must still be in here. She might be in the restroom. Can you check?”

Penelope looked so scared at that moment that Simon immediately regretted asking her to check for the woman. Penelope appeared to swallow the fear and without speaking began to walk toward the bathroom. Simon and Charles followed in her wake, only stopping when she walked through the doors that turned and led into the rest area. A woman wearing a flowery dress walked out, dragging a screaming child that was all arms and legs in her large wake. Simon listened carefully, shushing Charles when he tried to start a conversation. He needed to ensure that Penelope was safe. There was something about that woman that felt wrong. He knew her and Penelope knew her, and that just was not possible this close to Fishs Eddy.

The thought of his home town found Simon grabbing for his phone. He checked the messages and could not believe that he had not thought about his family since he saw that witch woman. Since brains work by trying to find patterns in activities, he immediately thought there must be a connection between the two: surely the witch woman was somehow to blame for what was happening in his home town. He quickly kicked away the thought and studied his calls, checking for missed calls. He did not lose sight of listening for Penelope. She was taking a while, and even with the distraction of looking at his phone, he was growing worried.

“She’s been in there for a bit, hasn’t she,” Simon asked.

“It’s only been a few moments,” Charles answered, seemingly amused at Simon’s discomfort. “So this woman of Penelope’s dreams appears, and she frightens you as well? Is it jealousy?”

“Of course not,” Simon answered, thinking hard now that maybe Charles had a point. Perhaps Penelope did mention this woman in the past. Maybe there was a tinge of jealousy. She seemed very comfortable in other people’s company, maybe it was because she did not need him as much as he needed her.

As his mind began following the different pathways that led from those thoughts, Penelope walked out of the bathroom. She was rubbing her hands together. She did not believe in using public bathroom towels, believing some of the worst germs existed near sinks and towels. The worry had drained from her face and she shook her hands to rid them of any excess water.

“She was not there,” she said as soon as she saw Charles and Simon standing.

“That makes no sense,” Simon said when Penelope joined the two of them near the wall that led into the bathroom. “How can she have left when we were not looking?”

“It could have been when we first got in the car,” Penelope said. “And the windows fogged over, perhaps she slipped out then.”

“But why would she do that?” Simon asked. “Do you think she was running away from us? She was scared we knew something about her.” As Simon said it, the idea began to take full form. He saw her running from the rest area, scared at being recognized for the awful person that she was. He saw the moment that he could have stopped her and figured out her plans, whatever they would be. The feeling passed as he realized how tired he was and how close they were to arriving at Fishs Eddy and finding his sister. She would know what was going on and part of the mystery would be solved.

Without another word, he led Penelope and Charles away from the rest stop and into the car. They would finally arrive at Fishs Eddy, and it was time they found out what was going on there.

Word count: 2,071

Words total: 16,574

Words remaining: 33,426

I feel as if I’m writing only for the sake of writing words. For every two thousand words I write, there is less than ten words that are any pat of a possible story. The rest is useless filler. It adds nothing to the color or the actions or the characters. I don’t want to complain and consternate here, but that’s all I feel like doing after slogging through another day’s work. I did strike gold: I took a person at work that I’m beginning to dislike and stuck them in the story. The description alone was enough to entertain me. Now, I have to somehow have this person turn out evil.