The woman in yellow

This is a response to Daily Post’s Daily PromptYou’re sitting at a café when a stranger approaches you. This person asks what your name is, and, for some reason, you reply. The stranger nods, “I’ve been looking for you.” What happens next?

Sunday mornings are always my favorite time. There’s this strange thing about the city I’m living in that I love so much: no matter what season it is, or how the weather has been in the whole week, it’s always sunny on Sundays. Hence every Sunday I would indulge myself to stay in bed until ten, sometimes later, then spruce up for no particular reason, and I would walk down to the café just across the corner of the street. I would spend my whole lunch and most of the afternoon there. Every single Sunday. I just clear out everything else for that special date with me and myself.


I’ve just finished my spaghetti, and now am looking out the window. For the first time, the Sun is hiding behind clouds; then suddenly it’s sprinkling with rain all over the place. “There goes my beautiful sunny Sunday” – I thought. It just feels so surreal at the moment. Through thin layers of rain outside the window, I see a woman standing on the other side of street. She is wearing a long yellow dress, which makes her really stand out in the frame. She seems to care nothing about getting wet or pedestrians rushing over. My heart just shrinks when I figure she’s looking right at me, with a weird look that all I can read from are anger and sadness. Now she’s strolling toward the café. “She must be heading here to talk to me. But why?”


I was right. She’s just entered the room, and now is walking to my table. She looks down at me with a frown of doubt on her face, asking me in a soft voice:

“What is your name may I ask?”

I tell her my name.

“Then you’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

“Excuse me?” – I can’t hide surprise in my voice.

“Yes, I’m looking for you.” She is slowly sitting down opposite me, giving me a blank look. Somehow I feel anger flame is growing stronger in those brown eyes.

“What can I help you, my friend?” – I ask.

“I’m not your friend.” – she grunts – “I saw you, driving to Lostleneck Mountains. You were on the highway.”

“What? No, you must have mistaken me with someone else.” – I say with relief – “I’ve never been there before. I’m not a very good driver, I admit, so I never drive so far.”

“You should never drive far. You’re a terrible driver!”

At this point it’s kinda frustrating. Who is she to talk like that? But I try to calm myself and be gentle:

“OK, so I’m not who you’re looking for. I guess that’s enough for our talk, isn’t it?”

“I’m not done yet!” – she is now talking in a high-pitch voice that really scares me. “You were there, just driving to Lostleneck Mountains. Everyone told you not to, but oh no, you have to prove them that you can, don’t you? So you just packed a car and drove off to the Mountains. But you were stupid enough to barely check the safe route, and even the weather! You couldn’t expect Sundays to be pouring with rain, could you? Am I right, huh?”

I just can’t stand the insane woman anymore. I stand up and look right into her eyes:

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, young lady. I told you, I’m not the one you’re looking for. I’ve never been to that Lostleneck Mountains, and have no interest in that thing whatsoever. Please leave now, or I’ll have to call the waiter.”

“No, I have to tell you this. I know you’re that person. I know right now you’re driving off that road, and you drank last night. I know that! You have no idea how dangerous it would be to drive at that suicide speed! Oh no, that’s not suicide! That’s murder speed! Am I right, huh? Am I right? Now look right into my eyes, and wake the f*ck up!” – She is pinning her face onto mine, and then suddenly she grabs my coffee cup and throws it right into my face.

“What the hell are you doing?” – I shout out loud. But no one, not a single person in the café shows any sign of hearing that. They’re just staying still on their seats, talking like nothing has happened. I call the waiter. He turns around, and gives me that look: the look that this insane lady has been giving me this whole crazy time.

What the hell is happening here?

I look back at the woman to catch a creepy and sour grin on her face. Then she slaps me hard. Really hard. Not just one time, but multiple times. She’s losing her mind, screaming while slapping me:

“Wake up, you idiot. Give me back my life!”


Then all of a sudden, I fall into a spiral. Everything in front of my eyes, the coffee, the woman, the waiters and other customers, is just falling into that spiral like a giant grinding machine. Everything goes so blurry. It’s raining, and raining hard. It’s not the café anymore. It’s the road. Now I can hear the sound of rain beating hard onto my car windows. It’s really dark because of the thick clouds on the sky, and things are blurry because I’m driving so fast. The road is slippery, which just makes things a hundred times worse, especially for a bad and inexperienced driver like me. “Didn’t I just fall asleep behind the wheels?” – I panick. Then I look up. A small yellow point is floating far in front of me, on the street. What is that? I’m approaching ahead really fast, and I’m out of control.

Oh no, it’s a woman.

She’s wearing a long yellow dress.


I can hear her scream in high-pitch voice, blending with my own scream. Then everything is falling into a spiral again.

Da Ly






2 thoughts on “The woman in yellow

  1. I love this story. May I ask where you got the influence from to write this? – It seems as if it’s from a dream of some sort. I’ve recently discovered you blog from the ‘Addicted to loneliness’ post and I’m enjoying reading lots of your work. Keep it up and thanks for the inspiration.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for the kind words 🙂 They sure made my day.
      I’m not sure how this story came to me, because it kind of automatically built up in my mind in ten minutes, and then it developed while I was writing it out. I did not know the ending myself until I wrote it out, to be honest. I think the topic that Daily Prompt gave was inspiring, and also was the fact that I wrote this at night, hence the thriller style.
      But I can be sure that the city that inspired me is Hanoi, Vietnam. It really has this bizarre thing about its weather, that it’s almost always sunny on Sundays. First I just wrote it as a description, then as the story developed it became a little more important to the storyline. I’m an aspiring and inexperienced writer, so things just work that way: I keep build up details as they come to me, and pull the pieces together.
      Thank you again for visiting my blog. Your encouragement means a lot.


You must be having some interesting thoughts. Tell me here

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s