Margot Tremont Had an Itch

She called out. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

No answer. Maybe she’d hit a box. A light cardboard box pushed along by a spring breeze, although the air was still. Moving around her open door, she crossed in front of her headlights and crouched at the front right corner. There was a smear of…something… across the headlight. It looked dark, but she touched it with her finger to see if it was wet, to examine it more closely. Margot was reminded of glitter glue. Which was weird. It wasn’t blood, luckily, since she didn’t know of any creature with green blood that disappeared as it dried, leaving only a sparkle of glitter behind. She didn’t know what it was, but with one more glance around her, and one more shouted “Anyone?” she got back into her car, closed the door, and started the engine.

Margot had driven less than a mile down the road when she saw the lights of a rest stop, and decided to stop for a pee break, maybe a Diet Coke and something to snack on, and to fill up her tank. She pulled off the highway without signaling, since there was still no one on the road to see her indicator, and rolled up to the self-service pumps. She hummed “Surrey with a Fringe on Top” as she filled the tank, using her debit card to pay, then parked in the lot another hundred yards away or so. She grabbed her backpack from the front passenger seat and slung it on her shoulder, and pocketed her car keys before heading towards the brightly lit “Midway” sign over the main entrance, a smaller sign proclaiming “Fresh Pies!” just to the right of the door.

Ten steps away, she swung around, and headed back to the car, opening the back door and reaching in for her University of Delaware hoodie, feeling a rush of hot air and a sudden brush of what felt like…wings?…against her bare legs.

Margot stepped back, and looked around again. She hadn’t seen anything, but it felt like something—someone—had just run past her. Or flown past her?