Pietrofalls

Chapter 1

Jordana

Five miles outside a small town called Pietrofalls, a woman checked on the engine of her pickup truck. She was surrounded by a forest from both sides. The nearest town was Pietrofalls.

She pulled out a tube from under the hood and tossed into the forest. She slammed the hood down and went over to the driver's side of the truck. She grabbed her purse and looked at the sign that read Pietrofalls 5 miles. She took her heels off and began walking towards Pietrofalls barefoot.

After an hour and a half, the woman was beginning to arrive in Pietrofalls. Right outside the town was a little farm with a young farmer working in the fields. The farmer stopped to look in her direction as she continued to make her way into town. She took a quick glance at the farmer who was still staring at her. She waved at him and continued into town.

She entered the small town where everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her. She imagined they were staring because of the way she was dressed. She wore black short shorts and a purple crop top. She noted everyone in town seemed very conservative compared to her.

"Ugh," she sighed. "This isn't going to be easy," she whispered to herself as she scanned the people nearby.

She spotted a tall large man swaying down an alleyway. She made her way to him. "Hey there," she called out.

The man turned around as he held a vodka bottle. "Huh," he murmured.

"Hi, I'm Jordana." She noted the liquor bottle in his right hand. "I'm looking for a mechanic. Can you point me in the right direction?"

"Oh," said the drunk. "You're looking for Allenby." He swayed back and forth as he spoke. "She's all the way down the street on the left side. Or is it the right side?" He said as he looked at his hands then it was like he was seeing the vodka bottle for the first time and took a swig.

"You alright there?" asked Jordana.

The man brought down the bottle and swayed back and forth. "Yeah, I'm fine. Where was I?"

"You were telling me where the mechanic was."

"Oh yeah," said the drunk as he pointed his fingers up in the air. "You're looking for Allenby. She's all the way down the street. You'll take a left. Wait, you take a right. Yes, a right at the end of the street. Her garage will be about two houses down from there."

"Alright," said Jordana, realizing she couldn't trust his directions. "Thank you."

"Wait," said the drunk. "It's a left at the end of the street. Not a right."

A police siren went off behind Jordana. She turned around and saw the older African American officer get out of the old vehicle. "Hello, young lady," said the officer. "I hope Domingo isn't giving you a hard time."

Jordana looked back at the drunk who was named Domingo. She returned her attention to the police officer. "Not at all," she told him with a smile. "Domingo was being nice enough to give me directions to a mechanic."

"That's right, Sheriff Lawrence," slurred Domingo. "I was telling her how to get to Allenby's garage."

"Is that so," said Sheriff Lawrence. He turned his attention to Jordana. "Having car troubles?"

"I am," said Jordana. "My truck broke down a couple of miles outside of town. Been walking barefoot for at least two hours." She raised her hand that held her heels.

Both Domingo and Sheriff Lawrence looked down at her feet. "Woah, those feet are dirty," said Domingo.

"Please don't stare," said Jordana. "You're making me self conscious."