Page 3 of Like A Moth To A Flame

Sighing, I inched closer to the intersection, cussing and grumbling as I fought to see past the cornfield.

Damn it! It should be a law that a farmer has to plant farther away from the road. How many people havediedfrom this?

Finally, I saw past the waving stalks. One way, and then the other. All clear.

Sucking in a deep breath, I whipped the steering wheel to the left and slammed my foot down on the gas.

Out here, I could drive as fast as I wanted.

Out here, I could feel the wind tearing through my golden brown hair. I’d clipped it up to keep it out of my face when I’d first left, but now? I reached up, grabbed the clip, and tossed it into the back seat. I knew my hair would be tangled when I got there, and I would be annoyed later when I had to brush it out, but now?

Now I wanted tofeelit.

I wanted to feel anything but this dread in my stomach, churning and sloshing, until I felt like I may need to pull over and puke.

Truth be told, I wouldn’t be coming back at all if I didn’t have to. I would have stayed far away from this town for the rest of my life if I could have.

It was just this morning, at work, when I got the phone call. I’m a vet in a low-cost clinic, and I was finger-deep in the back end of a pug when Amelia stuck her head in the door.

“Nessa, it’s your dad.”

“Tell him I’ll call him back! I’m a little busy!”

“He’s gone, sweetie. He died.”

I apologized to the client and rushed out of the room.

When I spoke to the coroner, it was pretty straightforward. Dad had a heart attack and died in his recliner in front of the TV.

As morbid as it was, I had a feeling that was how he would have wanted to go.

A tedious man, he’d made his arrangements years ago. Now all I had to do was drive the three hours to Cottonwood Falls and attend the service, take a week to go over his affairs, tie up loose ends, and work on selling his old farmhouse.

Easy, right?

It didn’tfeeleasy.

I didn’t wanna step foot back in this town. I didn’t wanna pass the little blue house on Main Street, where I’d spent thirteen fun-filled days and nights tied up in the basement. And for what?

No good reason was what for. All the psychopath had ever said was, ‘I wanted to make him happy’.

Who the fuck was ‘him’, and why did that have anything to do with me?

Was it some kind of satanic sacrifice? Was he planning to bleed me like a pig and offer me to the dark lord?

Whatever. Didn’t matter. That was behind me and soon enough, this town would be too. All I had to do was get through this weekend, and I would never have to see this hick town ever again.

Another stop sign.

Groaning, I slid to a stop, looking both ways. Thankfully, this one wasn’t an apocalypse of corn, and it was easy to see. Grassy fields grew unkempt on each side of the cracked, weed-eaten blacktop. Turning back, I caught sight of my face in the rearview mirror. My nose was already burnt, and the freckles stood out like a handful of mud thrown at my face. My cornflower blue eyes were bloodshot and red-ringed from crying, and the lack of sleep last night hadn’t helped the matter.

Turning away, I got my eyes back on the road and hit the gas. Up ahead, I could see the scarred green sign welcoming me to Cottonwood Falls. I pulled a face and wrinkled my nose.

Oh goodie. I was so glad to be home.

I crossed over a bridge, my eyes naturally drifting to the right. This was the ‘famous’ Cottonwood Falls, our sad attempt at a waterfall. It was a tiny dam that rose maybe a foot out of the water, but it was still fun to sit by in the summer. Too bad I wouldn’t have time for any of that.

I took the first road to the right, Main Street, careful to keep my eyes on the road and not on the houses. It was a short drive, but Main Street became Lake Street, and a couple of miles down, itturned into dirt and gravel. Another right turn and I could already see the long, narrow driveway between a cow field and a horse pasture. Sadly, my old horse, Gunner, had died years ago, and dad hadn’t bothered to get another. The thought made me sad. I’d grown up with Gunner, and it wasn’t gonna be the same, seeing the field empty.

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