run-on sentences and other malignant humors
boutique
When even coffee won't save your day, you know you have a problem, she thought, checking her rear view mirror again. She looked horrible and she felt even worse. After three nights of non-stop sessions with her latest client, she was ready to pull into the first motel she could find and sleep until her flight, even if it was the middle of the day. She really needed some help if they were going to get anywhere with him at all.
With puffy eyes she pulled into a small gravel parking lot and paralleled in front of the office. The old neon sign was a faded pink and the lettering barely distinguishable from the highway. "Gather's Inn" was the only thing for miles, but she didn't have the strength to make it to the Holiday Inn she knew was on the main highway.
Unlocking her door, she noticed a car parked directly behind her, a car that had not been there a second before. There was obviously someone in it, but they were not getting out and entering the motel. She couldn't tell who it was or how many of them there were. Squinting into the rearview mirror, she hesitantly locked the door again and shifted into drive. As she inched forward, the car behind her didn't move. She waited a few more minutes, more out of weariness than apprehension, and then pulled out onto State Highway 107. She hoped the bitter taste in her mouth was from the gas station coffee and not from fear. Maybe she could make it to a safer motel - one at least with interior doors.
She rounded a curve, hitting a misty corner of the road. Objects sprang at her in slow motion out of the fog. She could only see a few yards at a time now. Sometimes not at all. It would be nice to get out of the mountains. Winding back down, she glanced in the mirror to see the silent car behind her. She still couldn't see who was in it. But they were less than 5 feet from her tail. As they escaped the fog, she realized it was not a lack of visibility that was making it drive so close. Terror welled up in her throat and she choked down an exhausted sob. Not again.
Her speed caused a strange echo in the surrounding air. She barely made it around the next corner without dragging the yellow line. Still behind her. Sending the car over 30 miles per hour, she rounded another hairpin turn. A small shoulder up ahead. She thought about pulling over and letting them pass her, but she already knew what would happen. Staring at the overlook as it passed her by, a slight movement caught her eye: a shadow in the road ahead. She swerved violently to avoid the something coming at her out of the mist. The car spun on it's front wheels. Gravel sent her careening toward a tree on the driver's side. Shattered glass. Squealing metal. A velvety branch in her face. The smell of cedar. She saw red splatters on the windshield and didn't know if it was hers or something she had hit. The door wouldn't open. A shadow next to the window. "Do you need help?" the shadow said. Then a gun to her head, then silence.
When even coffee won't save your day, you know you have a problem, she thought, checking her rear view mirror again. She looked horrible and she felt even worse. After three nights of non-stop sessions with her latest client, she was ready to pull into the first motel she could find and sleep until her flight, even if it was the middle of the day. She really needed some help if they were going to get anywhere with him at all.
With puffy eyes she pulled into a small gravel parking lot and paralleled in front of the office. The old neon sign was a faded pink and the lettering barely distinguishable from the highway. "Gather's Inn" was the only thing for miles, but she didn't have the strength to make it to the Holiday Inn she knew was on the main highway.
Unlocking her door, she noticed a car parked directly behind her, a car that had not been there a second before. There was obviously someone in it, but they were not getting out and entering the motel. She couldn't tell who it was or how many of them there were. Squinting into the rearview mirror, she hesitantly locked the door again and shifted into drive. As she inched forward, the car behind her didn't move. She waited a few more minutes, more out of weariness than apprehension, and then pulled out onto State Highway 107. She hoped the bitter taste in her mouth was from the gas station coffee and not from fear. Maybe she could make it to a safer motel - one at least with interior doors.
She rounded a curve, hitting a misty corner of the road. Objects sprang at her in slow motion out of the fog. She could only see a few yards at a time now. Sometimes not at all. It would be nice to get out of the mountains. Winding back down, she glanced in the mirror to see the silent car behind her. She still couldn't see who was in it. But they were less than 5 feet from her tail. As they escaped the fog, she realized it was not a lack of visibility that was making it drive so close. Terror welled up in her throat and she choked down an exhausted sob. Not again.
Her speed caused a strange echo in the surrounding air. She barely made it around the next corner without dragging the yellow line. Still behind her. Sending the car over 30 miles per hour, she rounded another hairpin turn. A small shoulder up ahead. She thought about pulling over and letting them pass her, but she already knew what would happen. Staring at the overlook as it passed her by, a slight movement caught her eye: a shadow in the road ahead. She swerved violently to avoid the something coming at her out of the mist. The car spun on it's front wheels. Gravel sent her careening toward a tree on the driver's side. Shattered glass. Squealing metal. A velvety branch in her face. The smell of cedar. She saw red splatters on the windshield and didn't know if it was hers or something she had hit. The door wouldn't open. A shadow next to the window. "Do you need help?" the shadow said. Then a gun to her head, then silence.