Will-O'-The-Wisp

I lay in the ditch, hidden. The rain is beating down hard around me now as the ditch begins to fill with water. The rain has fallen too quickly for the dried earth to soak up the water at a rate consistent with the deluge. The water is creeping along my still body, soaking the backside of my clothes and my hair. The grass is wet, and the earth feels bloated beneath my body. A sense of panic rises from within me as if I am being dragged down into a quagmire. For a moment, I think someone is dragging me. I hold my breath and try to clear my mind of the sinking feeling. I don’t think anyone can see me. I am small and the ditch is deep, I remind myself. I clutch my necklace tightly in my hand and take several deep breaths as I stroke the outline of the necklace with my fingers. My bike is beside me in the ditch, the wheels still turning slowly in the rain. Can anyone see me? I wonder again. No, I reassure myself. I stare up at the grey sky. The dark grey clouds are moving above like waves out at sea. The raindrops do not come into focus until mere moments before they splatter onto my face. A mixture of raindrops and tears run down my cheeks now. Temperature is the only way to distinguish one from the other as my entire face is wet now. The tears are warm, and the rain is cool. Home is just a couple of blocks away. I know I can make it if I go quickly, but I cannot be seen. I have to be sure of that. I roll over first to my side and then onto my stomach and begin to army crawl to where my bike sits in the ditch. It feels like my body is filled with concrete as I try to use my arms to drag myself and my soaking wet clothes across the ditch. The white plastic handlebars are wet and slippery as I grab the bike, and I lose my grip on them more than once while trying to gain control of the bike and pull myself upright. Finally, I pull myself up to my knees and prop my bike up, slowly inching my body toward the center of the bike’s frame. I can hear noises in the distance, and I know that I need to move faster—to work harder. It won’t be long now before surely, they will come looking for me. I try to hurry but the rain impedes my ability to act with any sense of urgency. I press one of my white sneakers down onto the ground in an attempt to hoist myself up onto my bike. My foot sinks into the wet muddy grass of the ditch. The earthy water soaks through the canvas of my shoes now and into my socks until they are sopping wet. Waterlogged, I command my feet to work again and fling my other leg over my bike. I press hard down onto the pedal with my right foot, but the tires of the bike slide in the wet grass, going nowhere. Undeterred, I try again and this time the bike starts moving. I work hard to regain my balance on the bike as I sit down, clothes soaked, on the slippery bike seat. I can barely see anything as the rain continues to beat down all around me. I notice that I am bleeding in a couple of places on my arms and legs from where I had crashed moments earlier. I can’t think about that now. I put my head down and blink aggressively to keep the rainwater from distorting my vision. The tears still cloud my eyes. I propel my bike with the full force of my wiry legs, pedaling as hard as I can. Finally, angling my front tire at a forty-five-degree angle, I successfully launch myself out of the ditch. I can still hear the noises in the distance. I do not know whether anyone saw me, and it is raining too hard to look back. Nonetheless, I take a quick look back over my right shoulder as I continue to pedal frantically. As I suspected it would, the rain has made it very difficult to see. In the distance, all I see is a car. Even through the pouring rain, I recognize the car. My stomach drops. There is no sign of her in sight. I know I should go back, but I am too scared. I put my head down again to shield myself from the rain and I pedal faster, not looking back, until I am greeted by the familiar driveway of home.