Gwen barely could focus on the oncoming traffic as she headed for home.
The white line on the highway blurred and steadied, blurred and steadied. Her eyelids dragged down with each mile.
A pulp truck passed her on the inside lane of the on-ramp and blinded her in a mess of slush and salt. She laid on her horn as she braked. “Asshole,” she yelled uselessly.
The most important thing on her mind: a couch, some TV, a bowl of Capt’n Crunch.
Well, mostly single. Tonight, Dennis would have the boys at his house. If she could ignore the teenage mess, maybe – just maybe – she could relax.
She saw herself shuffle up the walk, barely conscious, and unlock the door. She expected a hungry cat and a darkened hallway.
Instead, the door opened to the barn odour of cowshit mingled with the pungent sting of damp stony mildew. Torches flickered on either side of her foyer as she took a step inside. Strange shadows danced on the smooth stone walls. She heard snorting and chanting.
Ahead, where her living room would normally have been, was a large fire, flames licking an open starry sky. Circled around it danced five cows on their hind legs– except they were human legs. Her mind corrected itself as the male endowment of the beasts waggled in their own rhythm as the bull-men moved to their music.
Gwen snapped her hand to her mouth to stifle both the giggle and scream that comes with absurd horror.
One of the creatures heard the noise, turned with an angry snort, and charged the woman in her work coat.
Frozen for a half-second, Gwen yelped for real and stumbled backwards out the door. It slammed shut and all was quiet.
The heater fan’s drone. Taillights ahead blurring into red watercolor. She gripped the wheel, thumb rubbing that empty space where the ring used to rest. Nothing is wrong with the world. You’re just tired, girl.
She opened the door again.
Instead of cattle and labyrinths when she opened the door, a blinding whiteness greeted her. A swirl of wind dragged her inside and she instantly felt cold.
Gwen turned around and the door was gone. Every direction was a sea of ice, snow and sky. In front of her stood a rock face and behind her lay the open abyss of altitude. A thick blue rope dangled and her eyes followed it upwards. A trio of mountain climbers hovered, clad in winter gear and sunglasses. She shivered and one of the men, the one closest to her, turned around and waved.
He smiled and waved. She shouldn’t have been able to see the gesture through the whiteout. The snow stung her face. Her ears stung with frostbite. But she saw him just the same.
Horns blared and Gwen opened her eyes. She gripped her hands on the steering wheel, yanked right and the yellow light filling her windshield jolted left. She hit the brakes and her tires slid on the slush, only catching on the gravel shoulder in time to stop her car’s tumble down the embankment.
Gwen sat there, head down on the wheel, and sobbed. Another truck slammed past, its wake shaking the car and depositing fresh slush. The wiper blades snapped back and forth in their mindless pattern. The heater fan blasted in its own race to keep the window clear.
She looked at her left hand, feeling the nakedness of her ring finger. I can do this. I’m just tired, that’s all.
Gwen cracked the window. Turned on the radio. Pulled into traffic, toward home.
Almost.
