Oh, The People You Meet

They had a little travel trailer no more than 12 feet long, towed with a truck that was twice its size.  He was a pleasant little man with a comb-over who had difficulty climbing out of the cab--kind-a slid down the outside of the seat with his feet splayed beneath him, Chaplin like, coming to a jarring stop when they hit the ground.


The next morning I saw him taking a walk around the place accompanied by a woman who was even smaller than him.  From the back, I could see her long, iron-gray hair fanning out over her shoulders reaching below her hips.  She listed to one side--with a limp.  She turned, in profile, and I noticed, with a little shock, that her nose was long with a downward hook and her chin was sharp, arcing upwards toward her nose.  She's a witch, I said to myself, then I looked guiltily around as I realized I had said it out loud.


Shortly afterwards, they came into the store.  He stood at the counter and asked for a jar of coffee and four Mars bars.  She hung back.  I was aware of her staring at me as he paid.  She gave me a little grin, revealing only four teeth in her upper gums and none in her lower.  I did my darndest to smile back nonchalantly, but again I felt that little shock at her appearance.


I saw quite a bit of her that morning through the store window.  She seemed to be everywhere.  First in the swimming pool in a shapeless bathing suit, then playing horseshoes, and then sitting in a camping chair outside their trailer.  She appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared.  Could this be my imagination?


I saw her walking among the trees at the top end of the campground as I stepped into my golf cart to deliver firewood to a couple at the lower end of the property.   On the way, I smiled and waved at the kids in the play area, and promised they could ride with me on the way back.  As I pulled up to offload the wood--I saw her walking through the trees ahead of me.  A frisson of alarm ran through my entire frame.  There was no way she could have made it to this end of the campground on foot so quickly, was there?  She must have used--a broomstick.


Ignoring the cries of the kids on my way back, I went as fast as I could to the store, just in time to see her entering her trailer.   Not possible, my mind protested.  Was I delirious--or under some kind of magic spell?


The next morning, as I was preparing to clean the bathrooms,  I again saw her taking a morning stroll through the campground with her husband.  They were so small they reminded me of salt and pepper shakers.  A few minutes later, as I was filling my bucket preparing to swab the bathroom floors, she limped in and politely asked if she could use the facilities before I began to clean them.  I agreed, and afterwards, in dulcet tones, she sweetly said that our campground was the cleanest and one of the nicest they had ever visited.  Then her identical twin came through the door--and I fainted.