Good Samaritan.

It was after midnight. Alizabelle yawned and stretched. Her knees were stiff from sitting at the keyboard most of the night. She stood and followed the scurrying animals. All ready for bed but waiting on a signal from her. She wasn’t ready yet, just making herself comfortable. She planned to change into her pajamas when she heard the screeching tires, and as she reached for the blinds she heard the impact.

Without a thought she raced out the door, stuffing her cell phone in her pocket. She Forced the dogs back inside and latched the door.

Racing down the driveway she worried about the possible moose. If that was what had caused the accident it could be on the road still. She lifted her foot off the accelerator only slightly.

She skidded to a stop on the rocks just under the street light and jumped out with the truck still running. A figure was stumbling up the bank of the other ditch, not the one she’d seen the car in.

As she walked forward and called out to the young girl struggling toward her, she could see the wreckage of another car. Deep at the bottom of the mini cliff like drop off, wedged between the earth and trees.

“Are you ok?” She called out.

“Yeah I think so. My face hurts.” The young girl said. She was also on the phone.

“I don’t know where I am.” She said into the phone.

“McCormick and Dyson.” Alizabelle offered, assuming the girl was speaking to the police. Glad she wouldn’t need to make the call.

“Is there anyone with you?” Alizabelle asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not drunk.” She said quickly. “Someone ran me off the road.”

“There was another car.” Alizabelle responded. “They were in the ditch. I need you to stay here. I’m going to go look for them.” The girl sat down on the ground in front of Alizabelle’s truck.

As she searched she cursed herself for not turning off her truck, but mostly for leaving her keys. They had her flashlight and the only light she had now was provided by her cell phone screen. Moose frequented this stretch of road and it would be bad to come up on one in the dark.

The car she’d seen through her bedroom window was gone. As she returned she was more angry with herself for leaving the truck running and unlocked. There were two trucks parked blocking her in on both sides.

Two teen boys were standing next to her truck speaking to the girl who was no longer sitting on the ground.

“Where’s Christina?” The shorter one asked the girl. She was less coherent than when Alizabelle had left her. The boy’s focus shifted to Alizabelle. “There was another girl with her when she left.” He said sounding concerned. They both ran down they bank toward the car.

The car was completely hidden from view of the street. It looked more horrible up close. How had this tiny girl survived with only a fat lip and knock on the head. It could have been so much worse.

“I’m sorry.” The boys voice caught her off guard. She was confused by his apology and how deeply sad it sounded. Sharp pain blistered out from the back of her skull. Confused she shook her head and watched as the ground rose up to meet her.

The rich smell of dirt was the first thing she was aware of, even before she tried to open her eyes. A task that was harder than it should be. Her left eye burned. When she was finally able to force both eyes open the world was a haze of blurry white flashes mixed with darkness.

A rocking motion made her stomach turn and she rolled over to vomit, realizing she was on the seat of a car. The movement caused the lights to swirl in patterns that were too fast for her blurry eyes to handle, her stomach threatened another round of retching. The throbbing behind her eyes caused stars to explode and her world went black.

Still in blackness, she thought she heard a voice. It wasn’t one she recognized immediately.

“I’m sorry.” It said and everything flooded back to her. It was the voice by the car just before the pain. It was the shorter boy with the kind, sad eyes. “She wasn’t supposed to survive that crash. She shouldn’t have.” He said quietly. This was bad. She knew she was in real trouble. People don’t confess their sins if they plan on letting you go.

Moving as little as possible she reached into her pocket. She could feel her cell phone pressed against her side. He hadn’t taken it. She held her hand over the screen to block the light. Grateful that she had left her phone on vibrate it made no sound as she pressed the three numbers she hoped would save her life. 9 - 1 - 1 and hit send.

He looked in the rear view mirror at her. “I’m really sorry.” He said almost like he was pleading for her to forgive him for what he’d done, and was likely about to do. Asking for her to tell him it was alright. “No one was supposed to be there. It’s the middle of the night.”

She knew her night owl ways were unhealthy but she never thought they’d hold this kind of danger. She lived on a quiet street a safe area. She was as far from this kind of danger as one could get. She’d left city life to avoid this very kind of threat, but somehow it still found her.

Knowing the dispatcher would need something to help track her down, and to know she was actually in trouble she decided to try speaking to the boy.

“Where are you taking me?” She forced the words out, though they were slurred. A thought occurred to her. Who would feed her dogs? What would happen to them if she died? She forced the next thought out of her mind, the one of her family. She couldn’t afford that kind of thinking right now.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She tried to sound pleading. It wasn’t hard with those thoughts rattling around her skull. “Please?”

“Shhhh. Just be quiet.” He said. “We’ll be there soon.”

Fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had to keep her wits though.

“We’ll be where soon?” She asked feeling a little more crisp.

“The dump.” He responded and blanched at the word.

“The dump.” She repeated. “You’re going to throw me out like trash?” She asked unable to hide her disgust.

“Shhhh.” He said closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds.

She hoped she’d given the dispatcher what she needed to save them, her and that tiny little girl, because now that she knew where they were going, she recognized the pattern of trees and they were less than ten minutes out.

Dignity.

The faces that stared back at me were all harsh and unforgiving. A sea of bitterness made that why by relentless struggle and hunger. They all craved retribution, called for my blood, all but one. There he was like a beacon in the night, soft eyes peering out from between wisps of pale blonde hair. These were the eyes of dreams, the kind that promised magic but delivered miracles. These were the kind of eyes that held redemption.

My accuser prodded me forward, pulling me back into the moment. I stumbled and struggled for my balance, the pull back on my chains was immediate. There would be no mercy offered here today, not even in the form of human decency.

I tried not to see the hunger in the crowd’s eyes as I was lead toward the stand. It was hard to tune out. I tried to imagine a private moment when dignity still existed. Then his eyes found me again and he followed along in the crowd like an unmoving yet ever present sun.

I now had something to hold onto as I climbed the steps toward my fate. The Magistrate stood before me purely as a token of a law that no longer mattered. My guilt was already decided by the masses, without a say from me or any that could witness on my behalf. Acting as a witness though would mean a fate worse than my own, and something I would never ask of anyone.

I accepted my fate the moment I made the choice to act. I’d already made peace with my God long before the act was carried out, before I’d offered harbor to the first enemy. Sympathy would not be something I’d receive today but in showing his face this boy had given me a gift I didn’t deserve to hope for. I’d have a memory to live in, one that held hope to keep me from losing who I was while my sentence was carried out.

The magistrate cleared his throat and I prepared for the meager show of civility he tried for before carrying out the will of the people. A will that was manipulated and then rallied by the most corrupt among us.

“Do you have any witnesses?” He asked in a shaky voice.

“I do not.” I responded.

“Do you have any evidence to present?” He asked sounding more nervous.

“I do not.” I repeated.

“Will you not even say anything on your own behalf?” He pleaded. I wondered if he would actually pass a not guilty verdict had I attempted a defense. Though I was the one being sentenced to death, I felt an overwhelming sadness for him.

“I will not lie and say that I did not do what I am being accused of. I will only say that if I had turned my back on those people I would have been breaking the laws that govern humanity and I would be deserving of your punishment. I can go to my grave knowing I did the right thing.” I closed my eyes as I saw the heavy burden was not lifted from the Magistrate by my words.

“Then having no defense for your crimes Annalisa Mancuso I find you guilty of treason a crime that carries the penalty of death. ”

As the hangman walked me toward the gallows I looked out at the faces and astonishingly none seemed hungry for my death. There was even sadness in some eyes. It was then that I realized that the constant face I thought was following me was not just one blonde boy but the crowd was now overrun with them.

Suddenly there was a cry from somewhere in the crowd.

“This is what you call justice?” It called.

No one moved or spoke.

A chant began quietly at first then louder until it became a roar. “Justice!” It called. I glanced at the Magistrate and he returned my questioning look. After a moment he stepped forward.

“What justice would satisfy the people?” He called out more calmly than he’d spoken yet.

“She showed mercy to those who were helpless, she deserves mercy.” I woman’s voice called out and she stepped forward. The crowd was silent for a moment. Then it tensed as those who called for blood were now outnumbered by those who called for mercy.

“Mercy it is then.” The Magistrate breathed. The hangman stood frozen unsure of what to do.

“Well I guess you better let her go.” The Magistrate prodded, bowing to the pressure of the majority.

Hands were around me pulling me to safety and it seemed that the soft eyes that had promised magic truly did deliver miracles.

Holding onto the light she stepped down onto the path.
Hoping for something beautiful to come her way.
So jealous of the things she doesn't have, she passed up on what was
always right before her. Kind and gentle, soft and tender.
He followed without question. Waiting for the day she'd look
upon his face and see him. To busy searching for what others had.
Missing the one thing that she truly wanted.
Tired and warn from the path she'd pulled him along.
Desperate and cold he found warmth in another.
Sweet and honest, she held him so close and gentle.
And he knew that all these years that which he was following
was only meant to lead him here.

(This is an old poem I wrote years ago. Can't even remember the year I wrote it.)