Memory Lane

by Alice Baburek

Tiffany Halston inched onto the deserted highway. She quickly grabbed her sunglasses as she headed straight into the setting sun. Tired of running in circles, she opted to use her accumulated vacation time, and then some. Freelance. She’d find her own stories and sell them on the Internet. It couldn’t be any worse than working for the small-town newspaper in Bedlam, a town where the biggest scoop was the annual strawberry festival.

            West had become her destination. Anywhere a delicious story was brewing. Her SUV was filled with all her worldly possessions. A brown paper bag stuffed with an assortment of snacks and two diet Pepsis sat in the chipped cup holders. The beginning of a journey.

            Tiffany hummed along to the familiar song, lightly tapping the steering wheel with her left hand. At the ripe old age of twenty-eight, rounded out with two degrees in journalism under her belt, she felt this would be the perfect time to see if she had the gumption to make it on her own. Returning to Bedlam was not an option. Growing up there was bad enough. Now, it was her turn to see how real people lived. Or so she thought.

            As the night sky shifted and darkness filled the empty space, the traffic picked up as she neared the bustling city of Asheville, North Carolina. Tiffany stifled a yawn. She had been driving for almost nine hours. Tired and drained, she decided to stop at a hotel directly off the freeway. The SUV coasted down the ramp that led into a single lane road, then abruptly dead ended in a parking lot.  A huge neon sign blinked “Vacancy.” The chasing blue lights raced with the words “Blue Lagoon Hotel.”

            Tiffany shut off the engine. Minutes later, she stood in the 50s-ish styled lobby. The retro furniture made her smile. Cool. As if she had been transported back in time to the era of Happy Days. She giggled at the thought.

            “May I help you, Miss?” asked a croaky voice.

Tiffany was startled by the intrusion. She eyed the old, unsmiling woman. With her sagging features and white unkempt hair, the motel clerk was a bit frightening. Her oversized cotton dress hung loosely off her decrepit frame.

            “Yes…I would like a room, please,” stated Tiffany, watching the aged female. After a few seconds of waiting for a reply, she continued. “Maybe you can help me…I’m looking for anything around here that’s story-worthy.”

The old woman did not blink. “What do you mean by ‘story-worthy?’” she asked.

Tiffany cleared her throat. “Well, anything…anything at all that has a story to tell. You see, I’m a freelance journalist, and I travel around, searching for interesting stories—of all kinds—to write about.” Her words stuttered. The heavy gaze from the innkeeper weighed on Tiffany.

            “How long are you staying?” asked the woman. She plopped down a card and pencil stub on the worn, scratched counter.

            “Not quite sure yet…as I was saying…if I find an interesting story…well, I could be here a few days.” Tiffany glanced down at the blank index card. Obviously, the Blue Lagoon Hotel hadn’t reached the 21st century. “What kind of information do you need on the card?”

            The ripe old-aged senior locked eyes with Tiffany. Shivers ran down the younger woman’s spine. Goosebumps spread across her arms.

            “Name, address, make and model of your vehicle, and the plate number. No credit cards. Cash only,” replied the stoic woman.

            Tiffany scribbled the information on the blank card. She pulled out three twenty-dollar bills and placed them on the counter. Since the old lady never said the rate for one night, she was hoping it wasn’t more than she could afford.

            “You never told me the rate per night. I hope this covers it,” stated Tiffany. It was then she noticed the square name badge on her faded dress. “Mabel.”

            Mabel snatched the money and stuffed it into the oversized dress pocket. “That’ll do just fine. If you decide to stay longer, you’ll get the discounted rate.” Her gnarled fingers unhooked the tarnished key from the hook behind the desk. “Room Five. No smoking. No visitors. No hanky panky.” Mabel slid the key toward Tiffany.

            “No problem,” she replied.

Mabel grabbed the card and stuck it in the slot below the hook where the key had been hanging.

            Tiffany looked at the faded brass key. “Which way to Room Five?” As she looked up, she realized she was alone once again. It was as if Mabel had vanished. “Okay…I guess I’ll find it on my own.”

Tiffany left the office and went to her car. The night was thick with humidity. The sound of the woods behind the run-down hotel echoed in the night.

            A few minutes later, Tiffany had found the room and was busily situating her overnight bag. She pulled out her phone to charge it overnight. It was then she noticed the absence of a television set. A small handwritten sign had been scotch taped to the back of the door, which read “No Internet.”

            Tiffany let out a huge sigh. Great! Any type of research on her laptop would not be possible with no Internet service. No wonder the Blue Lagoon Hotel had vacancies. No one with a brain would stay even one night without Internet or cable television. She stifled a long, drawn-out yawn.

            Maybe it was better that way. She was tired from the drive. Tomorrow, she could either check out or go into Asheville to find free Internet service.

She glanced around the sparsely furnished room. A twin-sized bed, one scratched wooden nightstand, an odd-shaped lamp, and a tiny table to hold a suitcase just about fit in the tiny room. The half-bath desperately needed updating. The plumbing looked to be from the late 90s.

            Tiffany brushed her teeth and slipped into her pajamas. As she slid under the worn quilt, the faint smell of lavender lingered in the air. She assumed it came from the clean sheets. For a brief moment, she considered clicking off the single-bulb light, then decided to keep it on.

            Thoughts of her job and the few people she knew in Bedlam crossed her mind. Family was non-existent. Weary thoughts scurried through her fading mind as she drifted into a sound sleep.

A thin light of sunshine seeped in from the top of the closed drapes. Tiffany opened her eyes to a strange place. It took her a moment to realize she was in a hotel room. She stretched, then got out of the bed and headed straight to the bathroom. Several minutes later, she was showered and dressed, ready to face the day.

Now what?

            Tiffany strolled into the lobby area. Mabel was sitting behind the scratched wooden counter, reading a book. She didn’t bother to look at Tiffany.

            “Excuse me, Mabel? Are there any tourist attractions nearby?” asked Tiffany, not wanting to bother the old woman.

Mabel kept reading her book.

            “Mabel? I hate to bother you. Do you know…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Mable came to life. She jumped up to face her visitor. “I heard you the first time! I may be old, but I’m not deaf. There’re brochures over there against the wall. Anyone with eyes can see them.” Mable sat back down and continued to read her paperback.

            Tiffany looked behind herself and saw two small stacks of folded brochures on top of a stained end table. She sat down on the worn leather chair. The first brochure listed sites in Asheville. The second brochure displayed a map and nearby restaurants. It was then she noticed it. A single sheet of paper under the square table. She bent down and picked it up.

            On the top of the page, it read: Want to see something different? Visit Memory Lane – It’s a Real Place!

A hand-drawn map was directly under the caption. Tiffany studied it for a moment. She stood up and walked back to Mabel.

            “Mabel…excuse me. I found this sheet of paper on the floor. Where exactly is Memory Lane located?” she asked.

Mabel immediately stopped reading. Once again, she stood up to face Tiffany. Her thin white hair was unkempt. She had on the same worn housedress from the previous day.

            “There ain’t no such place,” said Mabel through gritted dentures.

Tiffany blinked at the crazed woman. Slowly, she placed the sheet of paper on the counter.

Mabel looked down. “This don’t mean nothin’…never heard of it,” said Mabel.

Her gnarled fingers tried to snatch the paper, but Tiffany was faster. She instantly retrieved it and stepped back.

            “That’s the property of the Blue Lagoon! You can’t be taking it!” cried Mabel, with a fisted hand.

“Why? You already told me Memory Lane doesn’t exist. So why would you care if I kept this sheet of paper?” asked Tiffany, with a half-grin. She had no intention of giving it to Mabel.

There would be only one reason Mabel would insist on keeping it—Memory Lane indeed existed.

The remote diner sat surrounded by tall stalks of corn.  Not the eating kind of corn—the other corn used for animal feed. Tiffany pulled into the dusty parking lot. Several cars occupied the diner’s lot. It was almost noon. The sun was shining, and the temperature had reached a scorching 92 degrees.

            Tiffany stepped into the humidity. She had gotten off at the first exit before nearing the bustling city of Asheville. Here, maybe, she could obtain information on the infamous Memory Lane.

            The tiny bell jangled as she stepped inside the quaint diner. Once again, it was as if she had stepped back in time. But this place was a tad more modern. Not much. There were no tables. Just booths and counter stools. She waited a brief moment before she noticed a sign:  Seat Yourself. A low murmur of voices filled the air. The few patrons were scattered about, leaving plenty of open seating. Tiffany chose a booth. Plastic covered menus, readily available, stood behind the salt-and-pepper shakers.

            A middle-aged server trotted over to Tiffany. “Welcome to Tom’s Diner. I’m Flo. May I start you off with a beverage?” Her washed-out blonde hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail. The dull white uniform fit snug against her wide hips. Age lines teased into crows’ feet, highlighting her deep blue eyes. A faint trace of makeup gave the impression she actually cared about herself.

            “Coffee, please—cream, no sugar,” replied Tiffany, with a quick smile. She glanced down at the simple menu. Not much to pick from, but then again, that sat fine with her.

            “Coffee…” Flo scribbled on the tiny notepad. “I’ll be right back with it, and to take your order.” She turned on her heel and left Tiffany to contemplate her order.

            The smells from the kitchen enticed Tiffany to order breakfast. It had been a while since she actually ate. Her stomach rumbled. When she worked at the Bedlam Gazette, she was usually the first one to open its doors. Not that anyone who worked there was in any hurry to get to work.

            Flo balanced a cup and glass creamer on a tray. She set it down on the table. “Coffee—cream—no sugar.” She then pulled out her notepad. “Are you ready to order?”

            Tiffany decided on the “Morning Glory,” consisting of two eggs, toast, bacon, and hash browns.

            “I’ll have the ‘Morning Glory,’ please. Eggs scrambled. White toast with butter. Bacon and hash browns crisp. Thank you.” She closed the menu and returned it where it belonged.

            “Gotcha…it’ll be right up.” Flo was still scribbling as she slowly moved away from Tiffany.

Once again, Tiffany glanced around the diner. It was not only quaint, but homey. She felt relaxed for the first time in months. Doing what she wanted to do—not what someone else wanted her to do. Freedom.

            Tiffany stuck her hand inside her jean pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper. She studied it.

Why would Mabel be so concerned about a place that’s supposed to be non-existent?

            As she contemplated her next step, Flo strolled up to top off Tiffany’s cup of java. It was then she noticed the paper in Tiffany’s hands. She carefully filled the cup with steamy liquid.

            “What do you have there?” asked Flo.

Tiffany smiled. She turned the sheet so Flo could see its entirety.

            “Ever heard of this place?” asked Tiffany.

Flo stared at the map. Her thin lips narrowed. “And if I have?” replied Flo.

            “Seriously? I was told it wasn’t an actual physical place.” Tiffany stared at the paper in her hand.

            “Well, it all depends,” commented Flo. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I’ve got orders to pick up.” Flo skirted off and left Tiffany to wonder.

            Minutes later, Tiffany’s order was placed on the table. “Morning Glory!” exclaimed Flo.

            “Thank you. Any chance you could tell me about ‘Memory Lane?’” pushed Tiffany.

            Flo let out a huge sigh. “I got a few minutes to spare after my shift ends. But it won’t be for another thirty minutes or so.”

Tiffany had scooped the soft scrambled eggs into her mouth. Her stomach growled. She didn’t realize how hungry she truly was. With a quick gesture, she gave a thump’s up.

“Alright, then. Anything else?” asked the server.

Tiffany shook her head from side to side. Flo retreated to the kitchen area.

Tiffany’s food was delicious. She ate every last bite. With a full stomach and a few minutes to spare before Flo finished her shift, Tiffany used her phone to search the Internet. At least Tom’s Diner had joined the 21st century. She searched for any type of articles related to the mysterious Memory Lane. Much to her surprise, there were none to be found.

Good!

A huge smile spread across Tiffany’s face. She would have the exclusive. Several journals and magazines would pay for a piece no one else had ever written about. Hopefully, Memory Lane was a real place, and not a figment of someone’s imagination.

Flo gathered her things and headed over to the young woman’s booth. She slid onto the opposite bench. “I’m Flo, and you are…?”

“Tiffany Halston.” An outstretched hand hung in the air.

Flo reached and reciprocated the friendly gesture. “Where do you call home, Tiffany?” asked Flo, eyeing the woman.

Tiffany cleared her throat. “I’m from Bedlam, Ohio. I was a journalist at the local newspaper.  Decided to venture out on my own. See the sites along the way.” She fidgeted with the folded sheet of paper.

Flo gave a slight nod. “Staying at the Blue Lagoon Hotel?”

“I am…how did you know?” asked Tiffany, wide-eyed.

“Only one hotel around these parts.  I suppose you met Mabel.” Flo waited for the answer.

“I did. I did indeed. She was reluctant to let me have this.” Tiffany slid the paper toward Flo.

The middle-aged woman glanced down but did not touch the paper. “You want to find Memory Lane?” asked Flo.

“I want to write a story about its mystic aura. And of course, the only way to do that is to visit this mysterious place.” A wide grin spread across her face.

Flo tilted her head. “It’s a five-mile road that goes nowhere.”

Tiffany’s skin tingled. “What do you mean…it goes nowhere? All roads go somewhere.”

“Not this road,” murmured Flo. “If you’re looking to write articles about haunted places, there’s plenty to be had in Fort Wayne.”

“Haunted? Are you saying Memory Lane is haunted?” Tiffany leaned forward.

Flo shifted on the bench. “Not all memories are good memories. Some memories need to be forgotten. Don’t you agree?”

Tiffany thought for a moment. Flo did have a point.

“I don’t suppose you can pick and choose which memories to relive?”

Flo chuckled. “It doesn’t work like that, Tiffany. If it did, the place would be famous. Reliving those wondrous times of your life, without an ounce of regret. Unfortunately, Memory Lane makes the decision—good or bad.”

“You make it sound as if it’s true. Do you know for a fact this isn’t some kind of urban legend?” Tiffany crossed her arms.

Flo shrugged her shoulders.

“How did it come to be Memory Lane? Is there a story behind it? I can’t find any info on the Internet.” Tiffany pulled out her cell phone.

“It cuts through the territory where the Kickapoo Native Tribe fought with Great Britain. There was much bloodshed. Eventually, the British won at the expense of the almost total annihilation of the indigenous tribe. It’s said the last words spoken by the Kickapoo chief were that the white man would remember this battle forever. Thus its name, Memory Lane,” explained Flo. She shrugged her shoulders.

Tiffany sat mesmerized. She wanted to hear more. In fact, she wanted to go find Memory Lane.

“Do you believe it?” asked Tiffany.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Tiffany. The old timers…”

Tiffany cut Flo off. “You mean like Mabel?”

Flo gave a half-smile. “Yes…like Mabel, among others. They believe Memory Lane is cursed by the Kickapoo people. There are no good memories on Memory Lane—only bad.”

“Have you ever driven on Memory Lane?” asked Tiffany as she rubbed her hands together. Her heart beat faster.

“No. There hasn’t been a need. It’s a stretch of barren road about five miles in length. Single lane highway. About twenty years ago, US Thirty-seven opened, leaving Memory Lane just that—a memory. Adams Way was built parallel to Memory Lane, which directly connects to the freeway. There really isn’t a reason for it to remain open,” said Flo. “There’s nothing out there.”

“Did they close Memory Lane to traffic?” asked Tiffany.

“No. It’s more of a stumbled-on tourist attraction. Most of the locals stay clear. Like I said before, some memories are made to be forgotten. Sometimes you’re better off not finding what you’re searching for.” Flo started to leave.

“Wait! Where are you going, Flo? I need you to take me to Memory Lane, please?” begged Tiffany.

Flo hesitated. “I told you…I have no need. But I’ll draw you a more detailed map. You’re on your own, Tiffany. Just remember…you may not like what you find.  Good luck with your story.”

Flo walked over to the cashier stand. She retrieved a scrap of paper and a pen. Minutes later, she handed it to Tiffany.

“It’s not hard to find, Tiffany. But I suggest you wait until morning. People have been known to get lost out in the desert. They become disoriented, especially since they don’t know the area well. In other words…people have gone missing. Don’t be one of them.” Flo gave a slight wave and left Tiffany with the map to Memory Lane.

Tiffany remained inside the diner after Flo took her leave. She thought about what Flo had said. The warnings of visiting such a place at night.

But how bad could it be?

She gathered her thoughts and decided to make her own visit down Memory Lane.

            Flo was right. It was very easy to find with her detailed directions. It seemed she was the only vehicle daring to drive it at night. Tiffany drove slow and steady. The vast openness on either side appeared endless. Her headlights shone on the roadway ahead.

            Suddenly, a hunched figure materialized out of nowhere. Tiffany slammed on the brakes, sending her cell phone tumbling to the ground.

“What the…?”

Her breathing escalated. She blinked several times for her eyes to adjust to what looked like a woman dressed in a flimsy, torn nightgown. Her face was covered by long, stringy hair. Her skin was coated in what could be dried blood.

            Tiffany’s headlights focused on the mysterious woman. Leaving the vehicle running, Tiffany slowly opened the driver’s door. She eased herself out.

            “Hello? Are you alright? Do you need help?” shouted Tiffany as she clutched the door. Panic squeezed her chest. “Can I call someone for you?”

            The cool air sent a shiver down Tiffany’s sweating back. The strange figure did not respond, nor did it move. Tiffany slid back into the driver’s seat. She bent down and searched frantically for her cell phone. Seconds later, she had it in hand and punched in 911. A red bar appeared:  NO CELL SERVICE.

How can that be?

            Tiffany assumed 911 was always a failsafe, no matter the distance from a cell tower. She punched the three numbers once again. Nothing.

“Come on!”

She glanced at the highlighted road ahead. The unexplainable person had vanished.

            Once again, Tiffany got out of the vehicle. “Hey…where are you? I tried nine-one-one, but there’s no cell service out here. Hello?”

She shifted on her feet and looked around. Darkness engulfed the surrounding space.

            Without hesitating, she got back inside and slowly inched her car ahead. Tiffany’s head swiveled back and forth as she searched both sides of the road for the missing woman.

Where can she have possibly gone?

            As quickly as the woman had disappeared, she reappeared once again in the middle of the road, this time on her back, with her arms flailing, trying to fight off the man who kept stabbing her over and over again.

            Tiffany slammed on the brakes and instantly exited the car. “Hey, asshole, get off her!” she yelled as she stepped quickly forward.

The unfathomable man kept plunging the gleaming knife into the defenseless woman.

            “Leave her alone!” shouted Tiffany as she abruptly stopped.

It was then she noticed headlights streaming through the misty apparition.

            “What is going on?” she murmured.

Memory Lane was supposed to be just that. Memories. Good. Bad.

But whose memories are these? A serial killer? A rapist?

She backed slowly to her open door, then got in and shifted into drive. A misty swirl of smoke rose into the air as she passed through the two fading images.

            Tiffany’s stomach flipped, then flopped. She thought for a brief moment she might vomit. The burning bile rose in her throat. She fought to keep it down. Seconds later, she pulled off on the narrow berm, then grabbed a water bottle from her bag and gulped it down. The liquid felt cool as it went down. With her stomach finally settling, her heartbeat returned to normal.

            Do I dare continue onward? Is this what Flo was trying to warn me about? ‘It’s not just your own memories that may haunt you, but those memories from others.’

            Tiffany knew she didn’t have enough information to write a decent article. She had no choice. She had to continue down Memory Lane.

“I can do this,” she whispered.

            Minutes ticked by as she gained speed along the desolate roadway. Flo had mentioned Memory Lane led into nowhere. So, she decided when she could go no further, she would turn around and head back to the Blue Lagoon Hotel.

            Driving several more minutes without incident, she relaxed and turned on the radio. A loud static noise filled the SUV. Immediately, she shut it off. But as she took her eyes off the road for that brief second, a loud sound emanated from her back tire. The steering wheel yanked to the left. Tiffany desperately fought for control. With both feet, she stomped on the brake pedal, catapulting her unrestrained body into the steering wheel. Pain radiated from her chest into her face as the impact crushed her nose.

            The SUV had come to a sudden halt. Tiffany’s face rested on the steering wheel. She gasped for air. Warm, sticky liquid seeped in-between her lips. A metallic taste saturated her tongue. She carefully lifted her bruised face. Smoke billowed from the hood of her vehicle.

            “I’ve got to get out,” she moaned.

Her entire body ached. With all the strength she could muster, the door to the SUV opened. Seconds later, Tiffany lay on the dirt and gravel. Using the car for leverage, she cautiously pulled her sore body up and staggered away from the car. Beams of light still penetrated the darkness. With a shaky hand, she gingerly tugged the cell phone from her pocket. After several tries, she finally pressed 911. This time, the call went through.

            “Asheville Police. What is your emergency?” asked the female dispatcher.

Tiffany tried to speak. The words tumbled out.

            “Ma’am. You need to slow down. I cannot understand you. What is your emergency?” repeated the dispatcher.

            “I’m…I’m…my car…an accident,” she pushed out the words.

            “You were in an accident? Are you hurt?” questioned the police officer.

            “Yes…an accident. Yes…I’m hurt.” Tiffany’s breathing became labored.

            “What is your location, ma’am?” Suddenly, Tiffany’s head became clouded.

            “Memory Lane…out on Memory Lane,” replied Tiffany in-between breaths.

            “I’m sending an officer and ambulance as we speak. Please stay on the line, ma’am, until they arrive,” insisted the female.

            “Okay…okay…how long before they arrive?” asked Tiffany. She closed her eyes. Bile rose up her throat. Trying to hold down the vomit, she realized the dispatcher did not answer her question.

            “Hello? Are you…still there?” Two short beeps, then silence. “No…this can’t be happening!”

Tiffany frantically pushed the lifesaving numbers.

NO CELL SERVICE.

The intense smell of burning rubber made her turn to face the car. There, in the misty smoke, two figures emerged. The men were large in stature. Full-faced beards with knit hats pulled down over their ears. Dirty overalls from top to bottom.

            “What do you want?” yelled Tiffany as she stumbled backward.

It was then she saw the long-handled ax. The two shocking men did not respond. They stopped, then faced each other. Tiffany was terrified as she watched the scene unfold before her eyes. Both men looked down on the ground. Tiffany followed their line of sight. On the ground, between them, lay an unrecognizable bloody body.

            Tiffany’s trembling hand touched her bloodied face. The bleeding had finally stopped, leaving a crimson crust on her puffy face. She tried to scream, but nothing came from her twisted mouth. A deep chuckling emanated from the two killers.

            “This can’t be happening,” she said in a quivering voice.

Then without warning, the man with the ax brought it up over his shoulder and slammed it down onto the mangled corpse, eliciting a shriek of horrendous laughter between the two men. She shook her head slowly at the hideous sight.

            Suddenly, Tiffany’s attention was drawn to the flashing lights and siren sound in the distance. The appalling image before her dissipated into a swirling mist of nothingness.

Tiffany sat inside the ambulance, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The young male paramedic gently dapped her bruised and cut face. The other older female paramedic was busy taking her blood pressure.

            “I suggest letting us take you back to the hospital to be checked out,” said the older woman. As Tiffany debated her options, a tow truck had hooked her undrivable SUV. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be driving your car.”

            “Ms. Halston, I need to ask you a few questions…if you’re up to it.” The tall male officer glanced at the paramedic as he leaned into the emergency vehicle. “Can I ask why you were driving on Memory Lane?” asked the male officer. His lanky appearance didn’t fit the uniform.

            “I was…I am a freelance journalist. I’m writing a story on the legend of Memory Lane,” replied Tiffany in a soft voice.

            “You do realize, ma’am, it’s just that—an urban legend. Most people around these parts know that,” he said.

Tiffany gave a slight nod. “If that’s true, why isn’t this road used anymore?” asked Tiffany, looking up at the scorning cop.

            “It doesn’t connect to anyplace special. There’s a new road that leads directly to the freeway. And as I’m sure you noticed, there’s nothing here—no rest area, no gas station…not even a hotel.” He shifted on his long legs.

            “Are you sure about that, Officer? Maybe no one uses this road because it’s not a legend—it’s the truth. But the memories…the memories can be anyone’s memories. Not just your own. The ones I witnessed tonight were horrible. The men I saw were sadistic murderers.” Tiffany pulled the blanket tighter on her shoulders.

            The paramedic glanced at the officer and gave a slight shrug. The cop crossed his arms and sighed.

            “Did it ever occur to you that maybe the visions you imagined were due to the injury you sustained in the accident?”

Tiffany stared at the law enforcement officer. “I know what I saw. And just for the record, Officer, I saw them before I had the accident.” Tiffany did not feel like talking. She felt drained.

            “Is there anyone I can call for you?” he asked.

Tiffany slowly shook her head from side to side. “No…I’m going to take the paramedic’s offer—a ride to the hospital.” She lay back on the gurney.

            “Drive safe,” said the officer.

The female paramedic gave him the thumb’s up. The cop slammed the back doors of the ambulance.

            Tiffany closed her eyes as the vehicle lurched forward with the blaring siren. Her mind was jumbled with melting visions. Before she knew it, Tiffany was fast asleep.

A few days later, Tiffany sat in a booth within the safe confines of Tom’s Diner. The pulsating headache became a dull throb. Her bruised face and body slowly began to heal. Dark blue half-circles still clung under her eyes.

            “What happened to you, Tiffany?” asked Flo. She assumed the young woman wanted some coffee, so she poured the hot liquid into the ceramic mug.

            “Memory Lane…that’s what happened.”

Flo’s smile disappeared. She glanced around the diner. Very few patrons were scattered around. She plopped down across from Tiffany.

            “I tried to warn you…but you wouldn’t listen,” said Flo in a harsh whisper. “Don’t tell me you went there at night?”

Tiffany’s eyes locked onto Flo’s. She could see the terror written across Flo’s face.

            “Yes. Unfortunately, I did just what you said not to. And it was almost the death of me. It’s not an urban legend, Flo. And why in heaven’s name didn’t you warn me I could be remembering other people’s memories? I assumed they would be my own.” Tiffany sipped at the hot brew.

            “Memory Lane? It doesn’t specify who or which memories are experienced, Tiffany. It’s just memories. Besides, would you have listened to me? I told you specifically not to go at night. It’s the worst time possible. How did you get out?” asked Flo.

“Believe it or not, I was lucky. I had a two-minute window of cell service and dialed nine-one-one. Asheville Police and an ambulance came to my rescue. I don’t know what would have happened if I would have been stranded out there the entire night.” Tiffany wrapped her hands around the warm mug.

Flo leaned forward and placed her arms on the table. She let out a huge sigh. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” responded Tiffany, with scrunched eyebrows.

“About the story? Are you still going to write it?” persisted Flo.

“Of course! Now that I’ve experienced the infamous Memory Lane myself, it should be a no-brainer to write. The hard part is to get a major news source to pick it up. My car’s in the shop. I thought the only damage to it was a flat tire. I was sadly mistaken. It was towed to a garage in Asheville. The mechanic said it looked like I ran over something. He wasn’t quite sure what it could be. Anyway, the radiator has to be fixed, and parts of the undercarriage. Since my SUV is an older model, it’ll be a while until the parts come in. So, I’ll be staying at The Blue Lagoon Hotel with good ol’, friendly Mabel.” Tiffany closed her eyes.

“Orders up!” shouted a male voice from the kitchen area.

Flo got up. “I have an idea. I own a small bungalow on the outskirts of town. I have a spare room. You can stay in it as long as you need. That way, you won’t be spending your money. I know Mabel won’t be happy, but she’s never happy. What do you say? You can take your time writing your story. I could use the company. Gets lonely. Just a thought.” Flo walked away before Tiffany could reply.

The days were growing warmer. Tiffany had already scraped and painted the tiny porch. It would be dry before Flo came home after her shift. It had been a few weeks since Tiffany’s car was fixed. Flo gave her the money for the repair bill. Fixing things around the house was the very least she could do. She put off writing the story. She gave herself time to think.

            Flo arrived home at the usual time. She had brought food from Tom’s Diner. She smiled at the sight of her newly painted front porch. Her house, which had been in disrepair for so long, was slowly coming to life once again, since the arrival of her housemate Tiffany.

            “Hello…hello! Tiffany…I’ve got dinner. Hope you like meatloaf.” Flo emptied the brown handled bag onto the sink counter.

Tiffany had begun to paint the kitchen. Her hands and face had streaks of yellow. “Smells delicious, Flo. I’m starved. How does the front porch look? There were a few rotted boards, but I replaced them with what you had in the garage. Used a few extra nails to keep them in place, because they were slightly warped but usable,” explained Tiffany. She set down the wet brush on top of the opened can of paint.

            “It’s wonderful, Tiffany. How did you learn how to do so many things?” asked Flo.

            “YouTube. Some things I would never try, like electrical work! But as my mom used to say, ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’” Tiffany scrubbed her paint-covered hands in the sink.

            Flo smiled. She set out the food on the round, worn table. “Smart lady, your mom. Have you thought about writing your story?”

            Both women sat down at the table. Flo bowed her head and remained quiet for a brief moment. Tiffany watched the older woman pray.

            “I have, Flo. I thought I’d toss a few ideas your way. Two heads are better than one.” Tiffany scooped the baby carrots into her mouth. She was hungrier than she thought. Her stomach grumbled.

            “What kind of ideas?” Flo’s chest tightened. The thought of Memory Lane made her heart race. The place was nothing but evil.

            Tiffany spread butter across her biscuit and took a huge bite. Crumbs fell onto the table. She tilted her head at Flo. Seconds later, she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

            “For starters, what do you think of this opening line?” Tiffany looked up at the freshly painted ceiling as if the words were written above. “Many people believe Memory Lane is just an urban legend. A tourist attraction not on any of the maps. But Memory Lane is indeed a real place. How do I know this? Because I was there…”

About the author
Alice Baburek is an avid reader, determined writer and animal lover. She lives with her partner and four canine companions in northeast Ohio. Retired from one of the largest library systems in Ohio, she challenges herself to become an unforgettable emerging voice.