Are We There Yet?

~

After a brutally long day in the office I was driving along a long, dim lit road surrounded by the dense fog of the bitterly cold October evening. I was going to pick up my daughter Coraline. I mentally prepared myself for the "imaginary friend" talk I'd be getting from her babysitter today. She's called me many times saying, "Oh Coraline! Yes, your daughter is incredibly sweet. If only she'd talk to the other children rather than her imaginary friend." I simply would reply with fake understanding in hopes she'd drop the subject sooner rather than later. I don't think there's anything wrong with my daughter having an imaginary friend. Sometimes our imaginary world is better than the real one because it's made to our liking.

I pulled up to the drab daycare. Its windows radiated like those of a black cat's in the night; luminescent yellow. Plastic skeletons hung to both the left and the right of the daycare's entrance. It radiated the Halloween feel that comes with the month of October. I stepped inside and sighed with a smile when the warmth of the daycare engulfed me with its comforting sensation. "Coraline! Your father is here, come quickly," my daughter's babysitter Justine hollered. I saw my daughter's curly brown hair emerge from the mass group of children. Her emerald green eyes were filled with exhaustion after a long day of play. Oh what I'd give for a day of Lego instead of paperwork. She clung to my coat sleeve to steady her as she put on her shoes. I looked up from Coraline to say goodbye to Justine, honestly hoping she'd already be gone. I was relieved when Justine smiled at me warmly then left to comfort a crying child. I dodged the imaginary friend conversation for one day.

I put Coraline into her booster seat in the back of my truck and set off for home. I asked her about her imaginary friend and she said her friend's name was Coraline too; she said it wanted to be like her. It was silly if you ask me, so I brushed it off and continued driving. The darkness quickly approached while I was in the daycare centre. The moon was my only light as I made my way down the narrow gravel road. Rocks flung up against the bottom of truck disturbing the lingering silence. "Daddy, are we there yet?" My daughter impatiently asked. "We will be soon honey," I replied to her new question; she's never asked that before. I looked up into my rear view mirror to meet eyes with my daughter but I was only met by the image of her hanging head that was deep in sleep. She seemed so heavy in rest that I found it odd that seconds ago she was awake. At least bedtime tonight wouldn't be such a fuss.

I pulled into my two-car garage once I arrived home. I got out of my vehicle and observed the dreadfully dark corners surrounding me. I've always believed in the paranormal, in the ghosts and ghouls that lurk at night. The belief in them came with a complimentary prize of constant paranoia and so it became a routine to check all the dark places that seemed to have their intentions set into making me uncomfortable. Like the corners of my garage, the dark empty rooms of my own home, and even my backseat. I checked each for someone (or even something) waiting to pounce on me in my defenceless moments. I'd be lying if I said my daughter's imaginary friend situation didn't spook me a bit, but I've come to terms with the fact that not everything we can't see or don't understand should be feared.

I pulled my daughter out of my truck and carried her through the thick darkness between my garage and home. I entered my home expecting a warm welcoming and the scent of dinner to hit me suddenly but instead received a request. "We're out of medicine, if you aren't too tired could you go get me some? I'm not feeling well," my wife Genevieve asked. I passed her our sleeping daughter and said yes. I ventured back into the darkness toward my garage. Happy wife, happy life people say.

It took over an hour to drive to the drugstore and get the medicine, so it was well past 8:00pm when I headed home for the second time that day. I drove down the narrow gravel road once again, but this time the moon didn't light my way even the slightest. "Daddy, are we there yet?" I was questioned. "Soon, honey, soon," I replied with a yawn. My phone began ringing fiercely on the passenger seat where I placed it. It was my wife. She was asking me to hurry home because Coraline had woken up and refused to go to bed until she knew I was safe, she said she knew there was someone that didn't like me. It didn't come as a surprise to me. I'm the boss of a company, no one likes to be bossed around, therefore they must not like me much either. I told my wife I'd be home soon and hung up. Suddenly I was hit hard by a realization. Coraline is at home. There's no one in my back seat. I am alone in the car. I frantically looked into my rear view mirror and my terror struck eyes met with those that beheld a wicked gleam. She smirked at me through that hideous white hair that draped her grey decomposing face. I felt five sharp claws dig into my right shoulder and I screamed out in immense pain. Unable to control my truck I swerved off the road and hit a tree. Before I blacked out, I heard her tauntingly ask me, "Daddy, are we there yet?"