George Madison had come to the conclusion that the horrid, drowsy weather was purposefully following him. For three days he had been traveling across the English countryside, in hopes of getting away from his life for a few days.
The rain slammed up against the car window as he was going down the highway when he noticed a road sign that read ‘315 km to Manchester’. Half asleep in the dreary weather, he suddenly he noticed something sprawled out on the road. He jeered off towards the side, narrowly missing it and sped off in to the ditch.
Drops of cold rain trickled down the side of George’s face. The air bag had gone off and the windshield was shattered. He got out and looked down the highway, there must be someone around here to help me, he thought. A crack of loud thunder echoed, and Mr. Madison started to walk down the highway to get help.
For hours he walked, drained of energy when he came across a curious little cottage set in upon a grouping of large trees. The windows of the cottage were illuminated and gave off a yellow glow in the somber wind and rain. That’s it, I must go there to ask for help, surely someone is home!
He walked up a cobblestone path that led to the wood front door. A brass knocker placed in the center of the door. A dead garden was out front accompanied by a lonely-looking empty flower pot.
George knocked once, and the door swung open immediately, as if the person was waiting for him behind it. A middle-aged woman dressed in a yellow skirt and a matching yellow top smiled widely at him, which reminded him slightly of a frog.
“Well hello, Mr. Madison”, said the lady quite cheerfully. “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you.”
George stood in disbelief, how does this lady know his name? There was something peculiar going on here.
“Well, come in. No need to be standing out in the cold, you may as well stay for dinner.” She smiled even wider.
“Sorry, don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? And how exactly do you know my name?” Asked George, sounding slightly tense.
The lady gave a little giggle, and said; “Oh, let’s not worry about that right now. Are you going to come in or can I close the door and bid you goodnight?” George was quite reluctant to go inside, but he felt as though he was being drawn to the house – he needed to go inside. He took two steps in. Then four more. Then she slammed the door shut and smiled wider than ever. “You got here just in time, m’dear. I’ve prepared a pot stew.”
She led him into the dinning room where the table was already set for two. A pair of matching plates, bowls, forks, knives, goblets and candles were set across from one another.
“How exactly do you know my name? And how did you know I was coming?” Asked George, getting more confused.
“All in good time, my dear.” Said the lady.
“I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”
“I didn’t.”
There was an eerie feeling lingering about Mr. Madison’s head at this point. He looked around the room, full of curiosity. Thoughts were chasing each other around his mind. What if this lady is a nutcase? I can’t possibly stay, maybe I’ll just ask to use the phone and –
“Take a seat.” She said, with a smile stretched across her face once again.
“Look, I can’t stay long, I’ve got to go. Do you think I can use your telephone?”
“Take a seat,” she repeated.
Very slowly, George sat down at the chair closest to the door. The lady walked out of the kitchen and poured him a glass of red wine then took the seat opposite him. She handed him a piece of bread, and put some stew in his bowl. “Eat up, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
As a matter of fact, Mr. Madison was quite hungry, he didn’t know why, but he felt he needed to have something to eat. So he grabbed his spoon and began to sip his stew bit by bit.
“Do you like it?” She asked.
“Yes, it’s quite good.” Said George wearily. “Now, how did you know I was coming?”
“I know when all my guests are arriving, Mr. Madison.”
At this, George stopped eating, and looked up at her. She smiled back at him, which made the atmosphere very uncomfortable. “I know that you got into a car accident, and that you were on a road trip to get away from busy London – or was it because your wife kicked you to the curb, Mr. Madison?” She said, her smile keeping quite constant.
George’s heart stopped beating for a moment. She knew that his wife and him got into a fight, she knew he got into a accident.
“What in the bloody hell is going on here?” He nearly yelled across the table. And for the first time, the lady’s smile vanished. Her face turned pale, she looked as though she had seen a ghost. “Answer me!” He demanded.
Suddenly a loud thunder rolled through, which made George jump up from his seat.
“Listen, I don’t know what kind of games you are playing here, but this is getting out of hand. I need to leave.” Said George with a shaky voice.
The lady continued to sit in her seat, staring blankly at him; without any expression on her face. George went to go grab his cloak he left near the front door and realized that it had gone missing.
“Mr. Madison, you shouldn’t leave so soon. Come back and finish your stew. It’s quite rude to leave your bowl nearly full.” Said the lady with a smile coming back to her face. “All my guests say that it’s an excellent stew.”
George looked back and forth between the door and his empty seat.
“Give me time to explain, I assure you, it’s worth while to hear.” She said.
He made his way back to his seat, and sat down. Mr. Madison felt he needed to sit down. He was drawn to the chair, and the stew... and the obscure lady. In fact, Mr. Madison caught himself feeling quite cozy and then asking; “so what’s in the stew?”
“Well, you know, the usual I s’pose.”
George continued eating, and wondered why there was a fork and knives set at the table if they didn’t really need them. The lady also continued eating her stew as well, smiling all the same.
“Do you like the wine?” asked the lady abruptly.
“Oh yes, it’s great,” George replied.
“Then why haven’t you taken a sip?”
George almost immediately took a sip of his wine, and felt the cool liquid run down his throat and slosh into his stomach. He then realized how awkward the dinner had been so far. And began to get scared – why am I drawn to everything here?
“Is everything alright, dear?”
He pulled the napkin on the table closer to him and put it over his mouth. He felt dry and weak. His bones felt like they were collapsing. His lungs were caving in and his eyes were turning red.
“What’s happening to me?” Asked George through the napkin.
“I have all my guests for dinner, Mr. Madison.”
