Bowtree Drive
By, Caitlin Simkovich
Disclaimer: This story contains subject matter that may be unsuitable for sensitive readers.
The jog is only supposed to take about forty to forty-five minutes. The route follows a paved sidewalk from the apartment complex entrance, crosses a two-lane residential road, and into an enclosed suburban neighborhood. It’s a jog she’s made twice a week, every week, for three years. So, when Jill set out on that clear, crisp autumn evening, she had no reason to think things would go any different than they normally do.
Bowtree Drive is your typical sprawling, suburban neighborhood. Mighty oaks and maples line each street peppered with perfectly manicured lawns. They all connect to one another through a series of drives, lanes, and courts, many ending in archetypal cul-de-sacs. There is, at least officially, one entrance and one exit to the whole lot.
Even at dusk, there was still plenty of activity buzzing through the neighborhood. Children could be heard laughing, dogs barking, and a symphony of lawn care equipment created the playlist for this evening’s run.
As she crossed over into Bowtree Drive, Jill was struck at how beautiful everything looked this time of year. The fall foliage was still alive with incredible reds, rich oranges, and just a few subtle hints of youthful green peeking through. It paired remarkably well with the deep pinks and purples of the darkening sky, making everything look as if it were on fire.
Halloween decorations hung proudly from mailboxes, garage ports, and front door knockers. Pumpkins carved with menacing faces guarded porch steps, witches were arranged as if they had crashed into trees, and orange and black lights were strung in spider webs, occult stars, and other spooky formations. However, the most impressive of the bunch, Jill thought, were the thick, spectral lights projected onto her neighbor’s normally beige siding. Neon green ghosts swirled and stalked in a repetitive, but entrancing, pattern.
“Marvin has really outdone himself this year,” she whispered to herself between panting breaths. “I have to give him credit, even if he is a crabby, old miser.”
Rounding the corner of Marvin’s house, she steadily made her way onto the next street, taking a mental picture of this moment as the sun seemed to race below the horizon. The dusk air getting increasingly cooler with each passing minute.
Little by little, the activity of the day began to wind down. Noises dissolved into calm and outside lights dimmed or darkened completely as everyone moved inside to live out the rest of their evenings.
Because there were no street lamps, only the pale light coming from inside the homes themselves, Jill had a near perfect view into the lives of her neighbors. At least of those who kept their curtains open.
Many of the houses sat on slight inclines, perched a small distance from the street. From there she could catch small glimpses see of families sitting down to dinner, watching television (JEOPARDY! for Mrs. Samuelson, some sort of sports game for the Davidsons, or the nightly news for the guy who lived at #219), while other homes were completely dark.
She waved as she watched Bobby, the McLaren’s oldest son, close the garage down for the night and shut the overhead light off. Fallen leaves crunched under her feet as Jill turned onto Silver’s Court and soldiered up one of the meager hills she’d tackle on her journey.
Suddenly, she had the piercing feeling as if someone were watching her. Following her, tracing her every move.
“Don’t be crazy,” Jill thought to herself. “Nothing’s out here but you.” She tried to suppress her growing fear, but couldn’t quite shake it.
Looking up toward the houses, Jill searched hoping to see if perhaps one of her neighbors was watching her from one of the windows. She saw no one. Just the blue glow of televisions, empty rooms, or total darkness.
The cold air was now whipping at her cheeks and scorching her throat. As she slipped on a pair of gloves from her coat pocket, a twig snapped. She stopped, her ears desperately trying to listen for something more. Her head whipped around to see if there was anyone behind her, but there was no one.
She began jogging once more, quickening her pace. The road was flat and it was easy to pick up a little speed without too much effort. Just when her heart rate was settling back to normal, she heard another twig snap, and then leaves rustling.
There was definitely someone behind her. She was sure of it. Jill tried to keep her pace steady and her mind clear.
The footsteps were picking up speed now. More twigs, more leaves broke behind her. As she ran, she tried to convince herself that whatever it was meant her no harm. This was a residential neighborhood after all.
The panic set in when she heard the panting, getting increasingly excited and increasingly closer. She could sense whatever it was right behind her, and then, it moved to her side.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking. “What do you want?”
There was no answer. The footsteps and panting continued.
After a couple more paces, she finally turned her head and forced herself to face whatever it was that had been following her.
It was a dog. Mrs. Greyson’s dog, Lilly, to be exact. A black and white and very friendly Australian Shepherd.
“Oh, Lilly” Jill said, and breathed a huge exhalation of relief. “You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing out of Mrs. Greyson’s yard?”
Lilly only sat there staring, smiling at her in the way that dogs seem to smile at a human they are happy to see.
“We’re not far, let’s see if we can get you…” But before Jill could finish and grab a hold of her collar, Lilly dashed off into the darkness. And just like that, everything was quiet again.
Jill took a few extra deep breaths and did some light stretching before continuing on her way.
“Of course it was a dog,” she laughed. “What did I think it was going be?” And turned to make sure Lilly wasn’t coming back for round two.
She was so relieved that she didn’t notice the dark mass rise in front of her. A mass that, in any other light, would have revealed itself instantly. But in the dark, it could be easily mistaken for an ill-trimmed shrub or stack of garbage bags filled with an afternoon’s work of raked leaves.
The figure rose out of the shadows and towered over the Linden’s ruby mailbox.
When Jill turned around, it was standing right in her path. She had to stop herself abruptly to avoid running into it and nearly fell to the ground.
“Oh Jesus!” She exclaimed, catching her balance at the last minute. “Sorry about that. I didn’t see you there.”
No answer.
“You sort of came out nowhere.” Still, nothing. Jill eyed the figure curiously.
“Mrs. Greyson? Mrs. Greyson, is that you? Lilly was just here if you’re looking for her, but she ran off down Carson Drive.” She paused. “Mrs. Greyson?”
Still no answer.
“Sorry, my mistake. Goodnight.” She side stepped around her neighbor, or at least who she thought was her neighbor, and continued her run. Once again, she heard footsteps behind her and when she looked back, the figure was walking, briskly, behind her.
Jill picked up her pace slightly. When she did, the figure picked up its pace as well. Eventually, Jill broke out into a full sprint. The footsteps behind her followed suit and she could hear them quickly pounding behind her. Jill gave it everything she had, her legs flew and her heart raced. She felt a side cramp coming on and prayed it would hold out until she could get out of there.
She ran and she ran with the figure seemingly right on her tail. Then, just as swiftly as it had appeared, the footsteps stopped. It was gone.
Jill stopped and doubled over, panting.
“What the fuck was that?” she whispered, barely able to catch her breath. She did a full 360 trying to see if she could spot the figure again.
She walked a little bit to bring her heart rate down and stretch out the side cramp that refused to subside. She was at the corner of Trudeau and Rosedale Streets when the figure appeared again, strolling leisurely out of the hedges that divided Annie Willis’ house from the Patterson’s. Once again, it stood directly in front of Jill.
Her way out was blocked, the exit to Bowtree lay straight ahead. Thinking quickly, Jill darted to her right and made a break down Forest Drive. She’d never come this way and didn’t know how she was going to get out of this, whatever this was. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t want to tango with the orchestrator of this twisted game.
Before becoming completely absorbed in darkness, she caught a glimpse of the figure cutting through the trees in Mr. Hannigan’s yard. It was going to try to meet her on the other side of the circle.
"Clever," Jill thought.
She skidded to a stop and made a quick left through another patch of evergreens, holding her hands in front of her face to keep the branches from scratching her up or knocking her out. When she cleared the thicket, it appeared as if she was alone. The figure hadn’t seen her change direction, or at least, she hoped it had. Jill didn’t recognize the house she had come to but made her away around to the other side and crouched behind a perfectly coiffed row of Boxwood.
“Shit.” she exhaled. “Shit.”
Her legs and side screamed, her head pulsed, and her throat burned. She crumpled herself into a little ball, as little as she could manage, and wedged herself between the waxy plants and powdery siding. Despite her fear, Jill knew better than to scream. Any noise at all would give herself away instantly. It was a risk she wasn't willing to take.
She'd deviated from her usual path and couldn’t tell how far away she was from the exit. In the darkness, it was impossible to make out any of the street signs. Her desperation was mounting. Jill tried surveying the house to see if anyone was home, for any signs of life or help.
All the lights were out, no voices could be heard, and to her utter terror no one appeared to be home. She was on her own.
“Am I making this up?” Jill thought in a moment of hysteria. “Is this really happening?" Trying, in any way possible, to rationalize the bizarre and horrifying chain of events of the evening.
Then, when nearly all of the hope had left her, a familiar sound caught Jill's attention. A sound like ocean waves moving through a seashell. She concentrated and realized it was the whir and hum of cars. Cars...passing over Route 79, the very road separating Bowtree Drive and her apartment complex. It was so close, she could practically feel the breeze as cars, trucks, and motorbikes passed innocently on by.
With her spirit renewed, she crept out of hiding on her hands and knees. Crawling, as silently as she could through the damp grass, she followed the sound, followed until she saw it. In the distance, a mere stone's throw away, was the entrance to Bowtree Drive.
Safety was within reach.
All that was left to do was run the 200 feet to the Bowtree sign, cross the two lanes of traffic on Route 79, and land in the warm glow of the street lamp at the edge of her complex. She just needed to get there.
Her legs felt like jelly but something told her she needed to move and she needed to move now. To keep going and Do. Not. Stop. Her mind raced. You cannot stop.
Thinking the unthinkable, she ran for it, sprinting as fast as her legs could go. Her footsteps were heavy on the asphalt and she gulped at the air in large, loud bursts.
From the periphery of her right-hand side she heard bushes rustling again when another set of footsteps joined her in hot pursuit. Jill pushed as hard as she could, the side cramp returning in full force without sympathy.
“Almost there” she exclaimed “Please God, I’m almost there.”
The other footsteps raced after her, unrelenting. She knew the figure wasn't far and was gaining distance at an alarming rate. Breathing that was not her own was hot on her neck and made her skin crawl. She pushed even harder, ignoring all her body’s begging to stop.
Bowtree Drive.
She could see it, she could almost touch it. She dug deep and with one last burst of energy, she barreled towards the entrance opening.
A hand landed squarely on her shoulder. She pushed forward. Another hand, then suddenly, there were headlights.
A horn blared.
The sound of a car swerving. Then nothing.
When Jill opened her eyes, she was standing on the sidewalk just outside of her apartment complex, bathing in the life-giving glow of the street lamp. She couldn’t believe it. She had made it to the other side.
A blue Honda pulled in front of her and rolled down the passenger side window. The driver – the guy at 219 who watches the nightly news – smiled at her as he leaned over from the driver’s seat.
“Evening”, he said.
Completely out of breath, the only thing she could was nod.
“Perfect night for a run, isn’t it?”
Again, she nodded, readying herself in case she needed to make another quick getaway.
“Yes, it is.” She wheezed.
“Yup, yup. Say, you may want to tell your friend to wear something brighter next time. Or maybe one of those reflective vest things. It’s hard to see you guys in the dark and I almost ran the two of you over just now. “
“My friend?” Jill stared at the man, wide-eyed, confused.
“Yeah. Your jogging buddy, the fella that follows behind you each week? I’ve been meaning to say something for a while now but could never seem to catch you.”
Jill just stood there. The color totally drawn from her face.
“Well, anyway, have a nice evening. And be safe getting home.”
With that, he clicked his turn signal and drove off into the darkness. As his car passed by, her gaze fell just beyond the road. Jill stood in horror, the blood draining from her body. Standing directly across from her, was the figure dressed all in black. A mask covered his face and from his right hand, a small glimmer was caught in a nearby road light.
Jill willed her feet to move, but they were frozen, concrete. Paralyzed, she watched as the figure waved its left hand, fingers wriggling in a demented hello. Then, it pointed directly at her as another car whizzed by.
Jill frantically tried to peek around the passing vehicle to see what the figure was going to do next. To see if it would come after her. But it was gone. Vanished.
With that, she bolted for her front steps, desperate for the security of a locked door. As she raced, her neighbor’s words echoed in her memory in terrifying repetition:
“You may want to tell your friend to wear something brighter next time…. the fella that follows behind you each week.”
Frantically pulling at the railing, ascending each step and floor as fast as she could, Jill tried to stifle her thoughts, but the words just kept coming.
“…the fella that follows behind you each week.”
“Your jogging buddy.”
