Strange encounter

Disclaimer: If you read this and think "Oh Puhleeze," allow me to assure you that I am in full agreement. This "episode" (for lack of a better word) takes on some minor significance only because of my reaction to it. Ok, now that you've read this, you HAVE to read the rest of the post! :)

For the past few weeks, I have been waking up early to go running in a park some distance from my apartment. The park, unfortunately, is far enough away that I spend considerably more time running TO it than actually IN it. I've been trying to find shorter ways to get there and have been making some progress in this quest, shortening the route to it by a little each today. Today, I managed to find the shortest.

On my way back, however, I miscalculated how far I was from the turn that would take me back home, and ended up turning too early. The result: my unfailing ability to get myself lost on the simplest of routes kicked in. I soon found myself completely turned around, lost in a web of tiny residential streets, with about five minutes left to get home to make it to work on time.

I began jogging toward the end of a small deserted street, in the general direction of where I thought I needed to be headed -- deserted, that is, except for the figure of a woman standing a few yards from where the road ended and another road ran across horizontally across it. The woman looked to be in her late 60s, with a noticeable bald patch on her head, dressed in a long skirt and a cardigan. What struck me, and sent a sudden chill through my body, was the way she stood -- shock still, erect and watchful, smack in the middle of the left side of the street, not off to the side as one normally would. She seemed to be watching for someone, and for a moment, I thought perhaps she was awaiting someone behind me. . . only, there was no one.

As I jogged towards her, she looked directly at me and bowed deeply -- like only the politest of Japanese waiters would. I smiled a little uneasily and continued on about half a minute past her. Discovering that the area was no more familiar than the place I'd traveled away from, I turned around to ask her for directions. . . only to find the road completely deserted. I looked toward the building, an old house, she'd been standing in front of, but there was no sign of anyone stirring.

I continued on, looking over my shoulder occasionally, trying to tell myself that my reaction was the result of one too many ghost stories around the campfire in which passersby saw lone women standing on the street, only to turn around and find them gone. But the uneasiness and the strange clamminess I'd felt upon first seeing her continued to disturb me.

I found my way eventually and sprinted home. My quick shower failed to dispel my nervousness, and even in my apartment, I continued to glance around me as I got ready. It was only when I reached the busy main street that I managed to calm down. And unbelievably silly though my reaction seems (she probably was a sleepwalking housewife), I do wonder. . .