Trepidation

Landslide. Highway closed. Closest motel, five miles back.

The adjoining restaurant was packed. I sat at a table with a coupleand their three high-spirited children. Rain fogged our window.Someone outdoors fleeted past us.

“Creek flooded road to my cabin,” an elderly gent spoke as we bothexited. “Why are you here?”

I wiped my eyeglasses pretending not to hear. “Can you please walk meto my room.”

He laughed. “Why, you scared?”

“I saw a prowler earlier.”

He obliged.

Next day’s news revealed that a bear had to be tranquilized on thegrounds, taken back into the woods.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Publishedat: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words,Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press),ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.