“Yes…okay…I know….I said I know mom, I’m going up the mountain right now,” I explained even though I was still on the long stretch of road that seemed have on end. “Mom, I really have to go now, but I’ll see you later on today….yes, I love you too, bye.” I hung up my iPhone and turned on the radio. Station after station was country music and the news. I didn’t care for country and the news was just talking about sports and the weather, so I just left it on one of the country stations. I had to listen to something while me and my 2006 ruby red with two white stripes on the side Mustang Coupe drove down the over extended pine needle covered road. There were many tall trees with broad leaves and wild flowers on the ground beside them that looked like they had been painted by Picasso. I was feeling a little drowsy, so I turned off the air conditioner and popped the top off the car. I slipped on my black RayBan glasses that resembled the ones that Trinity wore in the Matrix and freed my natural blonde hair from the rubber band.

It was such a perfect day, not to cold or hot, but nobody was on the road or outside. About another 20 miles up the road, I saw an abundance of snow capped mountains that seem to touch the heavens with forests surrounding them half way. I was coming up to the bases of the mountains, so I pulled out my map to see which one to go up. Stupid me, I was going 70 miles on the road holding the steering wheel with one hand and holding up the map with the other and the top was still down. As I tried to look at the map, a gust of wind took it for its own. I tried to grab it, but the car was weaving off the road. So, to gain control, I stopped trying to grab it and kept driving. Soon, I came to a fork in the road. It was exactly three roads not two to choose from. I had no clue which one to take, so I called my mother. No signal. So I decided to do what anybody in my situation would do; play Any-Many-Mighty-Moe. The end result of the game was to go up the trail on the right. “Right is right”, I said to myself snickering.

It was a long winding road that seemed to go nowhere. The road was bumpy and wasn’t paved anymore and it cut between what seemed to be a forest. The radio stations were all static now, so I turned it off. I kept driving hoping to see some human life. Then, when I thought that nothing else could go wrong, my gas light came on. “Shoot”, I screamed banging the steering wheel with my hands until they were bright red. I took a deep breath and kept going. When I thought that all hope was lost, I saw an old wooden house off road that looked as if nobody has lived in it for years. I took a chance and turned into the dusty driveway and parked in front of the house and there was an old white woman on sitting on the front porch rocking back and forward in a rocking chair. She was humongous. So huge that the arms of the chair were gone due to pounds of fat in her arms and it seemed that she broke it multiple times because somebody put extra wood and nails on the bottom of the chair. She was wearing a long blue and white checkered dress that stopped at her knees, white tube socks, and brown penny loafers that seemed to have been mauled by wild animals.

I stepped out of the car and walked up towards the first step. “Hello ma’am. My name is Kimberly Gates”, I stated while taking my sunglasses off and putting them in my Prada bag, “My car just ran out of gas, so I was wondering where the nearest gas station is.”

Silence.

She just stared at me and rocked back and forward. I notice that one eye blinked, but the other didn’t or moved around freely. I thought she didn’t hear me so I started to repeat what I said. “Hello, my name is Kimber…”

“I heard what you said, I ain’t deaf”, the old woman shouted as she continued to rock back and forward.

“So will you help me”, I asked a little scared now.

“You think you better than us don’t cha”, asked the old woman with only two top front teeth that seemed to be hanging on for dear life to her gums.

“What”, I asked puzzled.

“You Yanks think y’all better than us country folks.”

“No I don’t and I’m not from the north, I’m from Florida.”

“So what brings you to these West Virginia Mountains?”

“My mother lives in one of these mountains. She moved when I was at University of Georgia and I haven’t visited her since.”

“How old were you when you went to college?”

“18.”

“And how old is you now?”

“28.”

The old woman cracked an evil smirk and nodded.

“What about that gas station”, I hinted getting annoyed.

“Hmm… Brotrum git out here”, she hollered towards the front door, “And bring my Happiness.” I was confused about the request. I was wondering how you bring out happiness. Suddenly, I noticed that the doggy door on the bottom of the front door moved. It was bigger and wider than any doggy door I'd ever seen. It looked liked somebody widened out with a saw and covered it the hole with a piece of a bed sheet. From the doggy door, a dingy brown pale was shot out of it. I jumped a little as it loudly hit the porch. Then, out of nowhere, two pale white long muscular arms sprung out. The arms pushed forward and there was a man’s head. I gasped and tried to catch my breath. He had a small like tuna can in his mouth and when I thought the weirdness was over, he dragged his whole body out of the doggy door. He crawled over to the old woman and handed the can to her. My heart jumped when I noticed that his jeans didn’t have legs in them. He had on a white dingy t-shirt that was tucked in his pair of light blue dirty jeans that just drug on the ground. He grabbed the pale that he throw and sat it next to the old woman.

“Happy you got your Happiness? Now what you call me out here fo, Agetha-Beth”, questioned the half man. “Look there Brotrum”, she said while one eye was on him and the other kept right on me. He turned around and looked me up and down like I was a piece of fresh meat. He smiled then pulled himself in front of me. He only came up to my knees. “Welcome, I’m Brotrum”, he greeted while he lifted one hand towards me to shake and stood with the other. My heart was beating 100 times per minute. The palm of his hand was peeling and pitch-black like he was rubbing coal on them. There were deep scars and holes that seemed that somebody poked him with No.2 pencils. I closed my eyes then shock his hand. It was so cold that it reminded when I held my dead grandmother’s hand for the last time at her funeral.

“Hello”, I stuttered as I quickly snatched my manicured hand back and wiped it on the side of my lime-green skirt.

“Well”, started Agetha-Beth,”Brotrum is 30 and he never left the mountain and he needs a gal to take care of him after I’m gone Miss Kimberly. Why don’t you and him go inside the house and talk?”

“Oh no, I have a husband, see”, I explained holding up the band of gold on my left ring finger while slowing backing up to the car. The old woman quickly pulled out a gun from her sagging breast and pointed at me.

“Not anymore you don’t. I reckon you stay.”