Follow Me
By Jerry Adams
Chapter 1
“Follow me, follow me, and follow me down,
Follow me to the dark red town,
Follow me, follow me, and follow me through,
Follow me to the dark red town that lies within you.”
I stood atop of the hill letting rain smash upon my head. I was praying for lightning to hit me. Maybe it
would shock away all my sins. I knew it would never happen, so my prayers became swears. I swore to
God. I cursed his name. None of this should have happened to me. He gave me the dust of my father.
He gave me the sickness of my father. He saw the woman with the red hair and now I see her. She’s
dancing in front of me on the hill, swaying to the tune of the rain drops. She had been dancing from the
first time I saw her. My father told me he had seen a woman with red hair dancing around him and never
stopping. I never believed him, because I could not see her. He said that she always found a tune of the
world to dance to. Then one night he came into my room and told me she stopped dancing. He said all
she was doing was staring at him. The next morning my father was dead. Now I know the woman, who
haunted my father and was now haunting me, is death.
Twenty-two years later
I woke up at eight-thirty in the morning. There she was, dancing to the song playing on my alarm clock.
It was some Mexican fiesta music. That didn’t stop her though. She was curving her body in all kinds of
ways, twirling her hair, and throwing her arms everywhere. At first it didn’t bother me. I mean it
bothered me, but it didn’t piss me off as much. When I first saw her, I thought I was just going crazy
like my father. Then after a while I figured out who she was, I just wanted her to leave. I smashed my
fist on the alarm clock.
You know how they say birds sing on a good day? Well this was not a good day, yet the singing of the
birds was apparently good enough to dance to. I walked into the kitchen for my morning coffee and
cigarette. She followed, dancing to the sound of my footsteps. I began taking soft steps. How pathetic.
I have to take careful steps in my own house, because some damn crazy redheaded Grim Reaper won’t
stop dancing to every noise around me. You’d figure she’d be tired or something, but no, she had this
sustained smile across her face. I took a long drag out of my cigarette, blew it in her face, and told her
to go fuck herself. My dog Charlie looked up at me as if to say, ‘Great, now the bastards talking to
himself.’ Charlie said nothing. I swear if I heard him say that, I would have blown my head off right there.
The smoke didn’t affect her in the least. She just kept dancing to the sound of the coffee machine, with
that creepy grin of her face. I was growing mad with anger. I needed to find a way to beat this. I wanted
to beat this, before she beat me.
I would have gone to work today, if I hadn’t of lost my job. I’ll give you one guess on who made me loss
my job. I could never concentrate. I was so focused on trying to focus; I never got any work done. She
would stand there next to my desk, dancing to the typing of the keyboards, or the sound of the fax
machine, or the endless ringing of the phones. Everything around me became a goddamn musical. After
my boss realized I hadn’t done any work in over a week in a half, he decided it was time for me to leave.
Not only because of the missing work, but he also said I looked as if I could be a threat to other
workers. The whole time he was talking to me, I heard a voice in my head shouting all the things I
wished I could of said. You want to see threat? I’ll give you a fucking threat! I imagined myself pushing
him over his desk and kicking him until he passed out.
That little voice I was talking about has been showing up a lot lately. It certainly showed up in the
kitchen. You know what you have to do. No. “No I don’t. There’s no way I’m going to let her kill me and
I’m damn sure not going to do it for her.” Well if you’re not going to let her kill you and you don’t want
to kill yourself, why don’t you send her to someone else? “Oh, and how the hell am I supposed to do
that smart guy?” Simple, we both concluded that she is indeed Death. That obviously means that you
are about to die. So you’ll have to do something that no longer counts as a figure of speech in your
world. “Yeah, and what’s that?” Put someone else in Death’s hands.

2

I made a lot of sense. If someone was to be staring Death in the face, then there would be no reason
for her to be around me. I needed someone to kill. I needed someone to meet Death.
I was lost in thoughts on how I could do this. I began to consume myself in history of serial killers. I
finally found the killer I would portray. I grabbed a stem full of grapes and got into my car. I was heading
for the outskirts of town. Crime and drugs polluted this part of town. Murders, prostitutes and drug
dealers ran these streets like rats. I wasn’t looking for them.
When I got to 8th street, and found what I was looking for, I pulled up next to an old, run down
church. All the windows had been boarded up and broken through again. Moss decorated the outside
walls with an errie, green glow. Sitting on the steps of the old church sat my goal. A woman, in her early
twenties was sleeping on the seventh step. Her clothes were ragged and dirty; her hair was tattered and
frizzy with a single, red blow on the side of her head.
I hovered over the woman with an expressionless face. My shadow must have woken her, because at
the exact moment I knelt down beside her, her head flipped up. She looked directly into my eyes and I
saw sorrow. I saw pain and disappointment. For a split second the sight of this brought a tear to my
eye. I had never felt so bad for another person in my pathetic life. It was like looking into a loved one’s
eyes as they let out their last breath of life. I almost couldn’t help myself from screaming, “Don’t you die
on me!”
When my eyes finally left the woman’s, I was staring at the other women. The one with red hair, dancing
to the sound of the traffic. The annoyance of this snapped me back into reality. Before I could say a
word, she spoke.
“Do I know you mister?”
I chuckled, “No, no you don’t.”
“May I ask why you’re talking to me?”
“Uh, yes. I am a part of a new foundation for the homeless and money challenged.”
“So what are you going to do? Take me to some homeless shelter?”
“No, no. I this is a new type of program. See what we do is we find a person who is in need of this type
of assistance and we help them until they get back on their feet.”
“Okay? So how’s this supposed to work?”
“It’s not that hard really. It is all completely up to you. I ask you if you want to stay at my home for a
certain amount of time. Within that time it is up to you to find a decent and legal job to support
yourself. Throughout the course of the time, I will be providing you with food and clothing.”
“Is this for real?”
“You know what, walk with me to my car, it’s kind of hot outside.”
She struggled to her feet with a grunt. I grabbed her hand and helped her up. It wasn’t until we began
walking to the car that I realized we were being watched. It seemed like a million little eyes groping your
every move. I walked around my car to the driver side and got in. She just stood there at the window
looking confused and unsure.
I rolled down the window, “Are you coming?”
“I don’t know. It just seems a little weird.”
“Well I can sit here all day. I might as well eat something. I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
I pulled the stem full of grapes out of a Ziploc baggy. When she saw this, her eyes widened with hunger.
She quickly opened the door, but slowly sat down.
“Can I have a grape?”
I said yes, and she ripped them right from my hands. I didn’t know a person could fit so much food in
their mouth. She ate everything but the stem.
“If you think those are good, you should come back to my place and try my grape Jell-O.”
She smiled and closed the door. It took about thirty minutes to get back home. In that short amount of
time she told me her entire life story.
As a girl she had a tough life. Her mother left when she was eight. She was left in the care of her father,
if you could call it care. Her father was a drunk and constantly beat her. After she turned thirteen, he
would leave her alone for days at a time. When he would get back, he’d be high on every drug known to
man. Then on her sixteenth birthday, he and two of his friends were smoking Meth in the living room
while she was watching T.V. After the drugs kicked in, her father and his friends ripped off her clothes
and raped her. After everything was said and done in court, she was sent to live in an orphanage. When
she turned eighteen, she was on her own and the rest is history.
As we walked into my house, I noticed the redhead woman was nowhere to be found. I asked the hobo
girl to stay put for a minute. The redheaded reaper wasn’t in any room in my house. I searched the
house top to bottom. At the time I couldn’t have been happier. I came running out of my room
laughing. I gave the tattered woman a hug so big, her legs lifted off the ground.
She got back to her feet and asked, “So why am I really here?”
My face filled with sadness.
“I already told you.”
“No, I could tell you were lying from the second you opened your mouth.”
I slight smile curved its way across my face as I said, “I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had
ever set my eyes across.”
Come on, just tell her. What harm is it going to do? You need to stick to the plan. That crazy Death
dancer could show up at any time.
“Why do you keep lying to me?”
If you don’t tell her, then I damn sure will!
“I’m not lying. Your face drew me to you.”
“You might as well quit trying.”
To hell with this!
My hands started to tremble, then my arms and then my legs. This happened until my whole body
began violently shaking. After two minutes of the vibrating, I dropped to the floor. The funny thing
about this, is the whole time this was happening, the dirty girl had a smile on her face. I looked up at
her, and she was still grinning. My vision then became blurry until I had no vision.
When I awoke, I was on top of a hill. It was pouring rain. The rain was red. I looked up and saw the dirty
woman standing next to a cactus. A smile cut ear to ear sliced across her face. She grabbed my hand
and pulled me up. She then began dancing, dancing to the droplets of the red rain.
“This is my favorite tune to dance to.”
She flung her hair back and when it flew back in front of her face, it was red.
“Why aren’t you dancing?”
I screamed, “Because there’s nothing to dance to! It’s the fucking rain!”
“And that’s the reason you’re going to die tonight.”
“Why? Because I won’t dance to your stupid rain!”
“No, because you can’t find happiness in the world. Everything in the world is beautiful, yet you cannot
see it. You take every little thing you’re given for granted. You’re just like your father. I tried to show
you the beauty. I tried to show you that all the sounds of the earth are beautiful enough to dance to.
Yet you are still irritated by everything around you. A man who hates the world in which he can live in,
does not deserve to live. And that is why you’re going to die!"
“I-I-I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t know.”
“As am I. I will offer one last thing to you.”
I covered my face to hide my tears.
“What?”
She held out her hand, “Would you like to dance?”
I squeezed her hand as she pulled me up. We danced in the rain for hours, not saying one word, just
dancing, dancing to the sound of the red rain.

“Follow me, follow me, and follow me down,
Follow me to the dark red town,
Follow me, follow me, and follow me through,
Follow me to the dark red town that lies within you.”