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Sarah’s story was an entry for the Daphne Contest, and I loved the way she translated the myth! The story was modern, and creepy from the beginning (especially knowing the myth). It plays up the tense aspects of the myth that have nothing to do with the supernatural or mystical, but which can show up on a very everyday level in interactions between men in power and women who work for them. And the interactions between Daphne and Joey were all too believable (and probably relatable for a lot of women). Enjoy!

You can follow Sarah at her Patreon page and on Facebook.

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Daphne

by

Sarah Scutt

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The fifty-pound bag of mulch was heavy but no heavier than it was to anyone else. Daphne lugged it over her shoulder and carried it up the small hill to the garden bed. She faced a hot, bright sun and lifted her hand up to her face for shade.

An average looking man sat in a rocking chair on a restored Victorian front porch, drinking lemonade, a guitar on his lap. One side of his face curled into a smirk, he watched the crew like he was the king of his suburban lot. He looked at Daphne and smiled, holding up his glass, and waved for her to come. He set his drink down and played a slow fingerpicked tune.

She carried the bag to the garden bed and tossed the bag down before she strolled up the short sidewalk and up the wooden front steps. The tune ended as she approached.

“Afternoon.” He held his glass up and took a drink. “Would you like some? You look like you could use it.”

Daphne shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

He set down his guitar and turned toward a rustic side table and poured her some lemonade from a glass pitcher. He handed it to her and she took a drink. It had just the right amount of sweet and tart and chill, and she gulped half of it down. Condensation had already covered the glass.

“Thank you, Mr. Barret.”

“Paul. Call me Paul.” He tilted his head slightly, with a slow grin. “And your name?”

“Daphne. Well, thank you so much for the drink. I should get back to work.” She looked out at the lawn. “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, so we have to get all this mulch down. We’d like to finish this job today.” She set down her glass, waved politely, and backed up a couple of steps before going down the stairs.

She could feel his gaze as she ripped open the bag of mulch and poured it into the flower bed. He played another tune on his guitar and sang a song about a woman’s hips. At repeated times, he watched her as the sun moved across the sky, rocking in his chair. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she pulled up the collar of her shirt as if she could shrink into it. She loaded her shovel into the trailer and hopped into the company pickup truck.

Her coworker Joey punched her in the shoulder and laughed. “Is that the next ‘Daphne’ adventure?”

“Dude. Did you see that weird look in his eyes?”

“Yeah, but chicks dig musicians, right?” And he laughed again.

*

Daphne stepped off the bus and hiked down the half-mile stretch from the stop to work. The sky felt heavy, like an overfilled water balloon. She picked up her pace and jogged the rest of the way, making it across the gravel and in the front door before the pressure broke, and the rain came down thick and heavy.

“Daphne one, Mother Nature zero.” She looked out the window and nodded her head.

“Just wait till we start work.” Joey snorted and chuckled.  “Mother Nature’s gonna kick your ass. Boss has us moving the bird baths and statues to the truck for the Wilson Park job.”

She groaned and started to turn from the window when something caught her eye. A small white delivery van pulled into the parking lot and stopped in the front spot. The driver backed out of the van, holding a robust bouquet of flowers and hunched in the rain as he rushed to the door.

Daphne opened the door for him and the wind blew a small part of the storm into the room as he walked in.

“Ah thanks,” He shook his shoulders and droplets of water sprinkled the tiles. “I have a delivery.” He set the display on the counter and looked at a clipboard. “Daphne Brooke?”

Daphne scratched her head. “Um, that’s me. Who sent it?”

“Name’s in the card, ma’am. Have a good day.” He smiled and waved in the well-practiced form of customer service and opened the door to leave. A puff of rain blew in before it closed, and he jogged to his truck. His sneakers splashed in the newly formed puddles in his rush, and he climbed into the cab and left.

“Oh, Daphne. Next, you’ll be reading romance novels.”

“What are you, twelve?”

The woman plucked the card out from the red and yellow roses and baby’s breath and opened it. She read it, and then sighed up at the heavens for mercy.

“It’s Mr. Barret.”

Joey laughed.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Don’t we have some statues to move?”

*

After clocking out, Daphne left by the front door and locked up. The weather dried up for a while during the day, but it looked like it would start up again soon. The sky was grey all day. She trudged through the muddy parking lot and turned right at the not-quite country road.

They still hadn’t built sidewalks down this road, even though business had started to sprawl outward over the last few years. At least there’s a wide shoulder, she thought. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her front pocket and tapped it on her other hand. She pulled one out and held it with her lips while she flicked her lighter and lit it.

About halfway to the bus stop, the sky opened again and poured down. She pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt and let out a heavy sigh. Her hands were tucked into the front pockets and she ducked her head low as she marched on.

A raven black car came up from behind her and slowed, matching her pace. The passenger window rolled down and Paul smiled out at her.

“You look like you need a ride.” He called out to her.

She stopped and so did the car. She stamped out her cigarette.

“Get in. You’re already soaked.”

Daphne looked down the street at the bus stop ahead. They didn’t put shelters on the stops out that way. She looked back at Paul, sighed, then shrugged and said, “Okay.”

She stepped into the warm dry car and sat down in the heated leather seat, more car than she could save up for.

“This is nice.” She shut the door.

“Thanks, I like it. Beats taking the bus, right?”

She laughed. “You got that right. My car broke down last week. The repair cost is insane. Another paycheck though, and I won’t be taking the bus.”

“That’s no fun.” He leaned towards her. “If you need a ride, just call. I’m happy to help.” He chuckled and sat up. “Plus, you must be seriously tired from carrying all those birdbaths.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she shifted in her seat. “Um, yeah. That sucked.”

“You know, I knew from the moment I saw you that I would get you in my car.”

“Why is that?”

“You know… just a feeling.” He looked over at her and smiled.

They were approaching the first intersection a few blocks ahead. “Which way do I turn to get to your place?” He asked.

“Um, I think I can walk from here. Could you stop please?”

“You don’t want to do that. The storm is getting worse.” As if to punctuate his point, a roll of thunder boomed.

Daphne put her hand on the lever. “I’ll be fine. Right over there is good.” She pointed to a spot on the side of the road, up ahead.

He pulled over, stopped, and put the car in park; all with exaggerated motions. Sighing dramatically, he said, “Okay, fine.”

She got out of the car and turned around before she shut the door. “Thanks for the ride,” she said and waved.

She walked away from the car, down the road towards the intersection and stopped there to check for traffic. Home was ten blocks away, straight ahead. Gaia’s Greenhouse and Nursery was to the right. Then she looked behind her. The car was still parked where she left it.

Thunder boomed again, and she flinched. She turned right and beat feet toward the landscape supply store down the road. Behind her, the black car pulled up to the intersection and turned right.

Lightening flashed up ahead, silhouetting the greenhouses. She was running by this point and dodged puddles across the gravel parking lot to the garden shop. The momentum carried her into the glass front door and it stopped her cold. The door was locked. They were closed.

Paul’s car pulled into the parking lot and stopped in front of the building. He got out and said, “Slow down, sweetie. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Well, I’m fine. You can leave now.” She faced him, taking little shuffling steps to the side. “Please. Now.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can do that.” He advanced closer. “We should have a chat. I’d really like to talk with you, and…” His hand reached out to touch her face.

She flinched and backed up a couple steps, then she turned and ran towards the tree nursery lot. A chain hung across the entrance, and she jumped over it. Thunder boomed. Her feet stumbled on the uneven ground, and her arms cartwheeled for balance before she darted down one of the gravel aisles between the trees.

“Stop!” He called, “I just…. We are supposed to…. I want…”

Daphne turned and hid behind a clump of laurel trees, their roots bare and wrapped in burlap. She peered out through the gaps between the trunks, watching for him. He walked past the aisle she was in.

Lightning struck down, hitting a tree in the next aisle with a loud crack. Wood splinters sprayed in all directions and she screamed a short yelp.

He turned and looked straight at her. She sucked in her breath. He rushes down the aisle for her. She pushed one of the trees at him. It rocked on its root ball and fell at him. He dodged it while Daphne pushed another one over. Paul wasn’t ready for that one, and just as he looked up, the trunk of the tree whacked the top of his head and bounced off. His legs buckled underneath him, and he hit the ground a slight moment after the tree.

*

Daphne stood, her arms crossed, underneath the building’s awning, smoking a cigarette when a police car arrived. She pointed to the tree lot when the man got out of the car, and he nodded. He said something into his radio and jogged off. She took another drag on her cigarette and exhaled with a sigh.

A minute later, the officer emerged with Paul in handcuffs, who stumbled around the puddles on their way to the patrol car. He glared at Daphne as they passed, and she shrunk into herself.

The officer put him in the back of the car and shut the door. He walked up to Daphne, a hand on one hip. “He was spouting all kinds of craziness, so I’m going to take him in.” Looking around the parking lot, he said, “You don’t have a car. Do you need a ride home?”

“No thanks. I’m good.”

*

End

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© 2018 Sarah Scutt. The content of this article, except for quoted or linked source materials, is protected by copyright. Please contact the author for usage.

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