Lyrical Lit Series feat. Slick Rick

This ain't funny so don't you dare laugh.

Just another case about the wrong path...

The long black Cadillac Eldorado jerks to a stop. Barely getting it on the side of the road, Camilla mutters some incoherent obscenities before popping the hood. She examines the intricate machinery with no comprehension. Outside of changing a tire, she knows nothing about cars. Irritated, she drops the hood looking up and down the wooded road, no cars approach from either direction. It’s early and even though she just passed a gas station, it's way too far a walk.

Sitting back in her car, she turns on her hazard lights and grabs her phone texting:

Late.

Why?

The Car.

A white sedan passes Camilla, and continues down the winding road. After a while, she sees the same white car in her rearview mirror. She's relieved, but cautious. Being alone and Black on a backwoods road isn't the safest, she locks her door, but cracks her window. A man with ivory skin way too tan for this region, approaches the passenger side door. She leans over to crank that window down.

“You okay, ma’am?” His twang is southern.

Signing, she informs the man she’s deaf.

Nodding, he runs back to his car. Looking in the rear view mirror, Camilla sees him asking a woman in the front seat for pen and pad. Signaling that the woman in the car is deaf. She notices the out of town plates, and relaxes in her seat a bit.

When he returns, he begins to scribble on a pad.

Are you okay?

I’m fine, car isn’t. Won’t start. She hands it back.

He gestures for Camilla to pop the hood. After his inspection, he comes back to the passenger side door pointing to the lock prompting Camilla to unlock the door. He gets in and leans over to her side of the car. She studies him. He’s strong, but moves in a very gentle way as to not frighten her.

Tapping the gas dial, he looks at her smiling and scribes:

You're out of gas. Going to send my wife to the gas station about 10 miles up the road + you’ll be good to go!

Giggling, Camilla covers her mouth embarrassed and shakes her head in disbelief. Speaking a sound that sounds much like sorry, she grabs the pad.

Thank you so much.

Handing it back to him, he puts up his thumb, and goes back to his car. Camilla watches as he instructes his wife, pointing in the direction Camilla just came from, taking the red gas can from his trunk. Pulling past the car to u-turn, his wife smiles waving at Camilla, and she smiles waving back.

The white car vanishes on the curve when Camilla begins screaming, and making noises. The man, sitting on Camilla’s trunk waiting for his wife rushes to her aid. Throwing the door open he gets in trying to assist her. She’s panic stricken. Frantic, violent and jerking her body. Trying to restrain her, he yells, “What’s wrong?” Her responses disjointed.

“You’re okay! I’m here,” he comforts Mouthing the words; he repeats them until Camilla begins to calm.

Assured she’s okay, the man sits in the car catching his breath alongside Camilla the silence interrupted when the sound of flesh tearing fills the car. Camilla pushes her knife into the stranger’s neck. Still in shock he struggles to pull himself from the car, but Camilla halts any progress. Turning the knife she pulls him towards her. Now face to face, her strength adds more shock to his face. Smiling, she watches him fade away; the kick in his feet slowing. Once he’s still she reaches over him slamming the passenger door closed. She cranks the car pulling of, continuing down the empty wooded road.

A call comes in on her cellular phone.

“I’m on my way.” she says.