Page 1 of Caution

One

Endorphins.

That wassupposedto be the point of this.

After a whole damn day of clients working my nerves, I’d come home and shoved my tired limbs into my cutest stretchy outfit, aching feet into overpriced, ugly shoes, and ignored my headache to blast something raunchy and bass heavy in my ears.

You should go for a run; you could use the endorphins.

I couldn’t even blame anyone else. I’d made the suggestion to myself, for myself, so it was allmyfault I was out here in the dark.

No endorphins were happening.

Maybe I was too tired.

Too stressed?

Or maybe… the paved trail through the heavily wooded Blackwood Hills was too creepy, even though it was well-lit, with posts every few feet.

I… couldn’t relax.

I’d run this trail a million times—in rain and fog and blazing sun, butalwaysin the daytime. Then, I appreciated the serenity of it, out there with nothing but the sounds of nature and the occasional encounter with a neighbor—in the community sense—out at the same time.

It was dead quiet now.

A little fact I only noticed because I’d found it necessary to pull my earbuds out; I didn’t need anything muffling what was happening around me.

The silence was unsettling, to the point that I rubbed my ears, even tapped the sides of my head, wondering ifIwas the problem.

Nope.

No birds, no bugs, just the roar of my own heartbeat, the shuffle of my rubber soles on the pristine asphalt path.

My pace slowed as I approached the bridge. My path was taking me under it, running right along the creek that fed into Lake Black. I always sprinted to hurry and get past this part. It was kinda creepy even in full light.

I stopped short as my eyes caught movement. Before I could process what I was or wasn’t seeing, the nearest street lamp flickered, then went dark.

“Nope,” I said aloud, then turned my ass right around, taking off at full speed.

“Excuse me,” I heard from behind me, something about the voice hitting me with the same feeling of ice water down my back.

It wassoclose behind me.

Tooclose.

“Ahh!” I screamed, staggering to a stop as my path was suddenly blocked.

A tall figure in a black hoodie and black sweats was right in the middle of where I needed to go to get back to the safety of my home.

My feet wouldn’t move.

“Did nobody ever teach you it was rude to not speak?” he asked, tipping his head up. As I tried to peer into the dark opening of the hoodie, struggling to make out a face, it struck me thatallthe street lamps were out.

The only light was the moon, barely filtering through the heavy canopy of leaves.

My hands went to my pocket, easily fitting around the pepper gel I kept on me for moments exactly like this.

“I was taught not to talk to strangers, actually,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you moved aside so I can go on about my business.”

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