Originally submitted in the Owl Canyon Press Short Story Hackathon 5, where the first and last paragraphs are supplied. Writer A and B each pick an ending and then alternate writing paragraphs 2 – 49 so that they end on their respective ending. Below are paragraphs 1 – 25.
No coverage, not even one bar; the battery was dead anyway. It was still daytime, but there was an overcast and the sky had a perfectly even dullness, so there was no way to tell what time of day it was, much less which direction was north or south or anything else for that matter. A two-lane blacktop road snaked up into the distance and disappeared into some trees, or a forest if you wanted to get technical about it. It also snaked down toward some lumpy hills and disappeared there as well. What sounded like a two-stroke chainsaw could be heard in the distance, but it was impossible to tell whether it was up in the forest or down in the lumpy hills. This had been happening more often lately. Two different ways to go, with a dead battery and no bars, and nobody left to blame.
As he watched her dawdle her way down the windy road, he couldn’t help but remember the first time he saw her. She was in the park. There was a brook and some bushes nearby that gave her some coverage from the other passers-by. The pinks of the cherry blossom danced against the blue sky. A serine face from the water dancing on the rocks. A large oak tree generously gave shade for her to sit under. Legs crossed with a book in hand, and a coffee sitting beside her. A bench nearby. Her telephone resting between her knees. She looked like she was waiting for somebody. A sight this beautiful wouldn’t be alone for long. Whoever it was, they did not deserve her. A creature so beautiful gods would go to war for; amber colored hair with hints of blonde streaked through. A crooked part with locks falling just below her shoulders. Eyes so green, the grass she was sitting in failed in comparison. Lips so plump and red, if you bit them they would squirt like a cherry between your teeth. Her skirt landed halfway upon her thigh, but she sat like a lady, proper, not flaunting anything. Whoever was coming would not have the chance. Boldly he walked by her once, then a second time. She was so absorbed in her book she had no idea. He could not believe how close he was to her and she did not notice him. That changed real fast.
She felt a pull in her chest, the heavy weight of heartbreak washing over her. Over halfway done, already the emotional roller coaster had been too much for her. Taking a breath, she paused, pulling the book close to her chest. Together they had found love, forbidden, even scandalous, but true love. If only she could find that. That person, the one who sweeps her off her feet unexpectedly. Who looks at her like she is their sun and moon, the air in their lungs, the wind beneath their wings. Someone who shows up for her, who doesn’t text her 15 minutes before their date to break it off, gently or otherwise, before having ever met her in person. She closed her eyes, the book cradled safely away from her falling tears. The rubbery case on her phone squeaked between her thighs, the salt from her tears only adding more friction. Perhaps she knew, saw the telltale signs and had known not to expect much, why else bring a book to what should have been a date? She shrugged, the knot in her shoulders rolled forcing a series of clicks and pops. She was content here, curled up reading, unaware that her date should have started two hours ago. Her best and only companions were those of fictional hearts and matter – no family, no friends, no lovers – just peace.
He approached her slowly, like a jungle cat readying himself to pounce on his prey. His shadow cast out, stretched, over her legs. She looked up, visibly startled, as her eyes locked on a rose he presented to her. One single rose. One stupid little rose that was ripped from a bush just feet from where she had been sitting. “This is too easy,” he thought to himself as she smiled and reached out her hand. The blood dripping from the thorns that adorned the stem from where he made the break went unnoticed. His hand grazed against hers sending a shiver of ecstasy down his spine. Her skin was so soft against his touch, like a baby after a bath. There was something so familiar about her, he needed to know more, he had no other option but to keep her.
She looked out at the landscape ahead of her. She could have been out by the state park. Everything seemed familiar, but there were no markers, no visitors center. Was she on the other side? The small buffer between state park and private property. There were rumors about the families that lived out this way. Her body shuttered, from hunger or fear, she wasn’t sure. The last thing she needed was a psycho with a family. Her eyes darted back and forth. There was a river that ran against the border, if she remembered correctly at least. The visitors center, the rangers station, it would all be through the forest! Unless she wasn’t in the state park or was already in the park and didn’t know it. Did it matter where she was? She was free now. Her thoughts raced faster than her shaking legs. Either way there should be a highway somewhere. No, the highway was off behind the hills, her eyes followed their slopes. Chainsaws rang out in the distance. Definitely not the way she would be going. She looked at her screen, black with sharp jagged white lines cutting a web like a spider’s. She returned her phone to her back pocket; she didn’t have time to worry. He could still be behind her. It was too much to risk it. To have his hands dragging her back down, keeping her caged up once more. It felt like weeks since she had been at the park nestled behind the center of town, lost deeply in the tale of Achilles and Patroclus when her world faded faster than Achilles was struck in his heel with the arrow of Paris. Who knew how long she had been his captive for, she opened her eyes.. . goosebumps broke out across her exposed flesh as she ran off to the forest. She would forge ahead, fight, starve, scream, anything before going back there, back to him.
As he watched her body turn right and head off into the woods he couldn’t help but scoffed to himself. “Huh, this bitch, like we haven’t been through this before.” When he had taken her from the park, she hadn’t put up much of a fight. She was tiny in comparison to his large stature. His broad shoulders, and wide chest had made it easy for him to pick her up in his forearms, and carry her off, like they were just married and crossing over the threshold for the first time. Not a single person would think twice to look at a young couple so in love. The drive back to his house on the outskirts of town wasn’t too long, but the persistent kicking and banging in the trunk made it seem like an eternity.The gag he had put in her mouth as he set her in the trunk of his Elderado had helped keep the yelling at bay. He hadn’t thought she would have gotten that feisty. With a cigarette in his hand, and his arm propped up on the open window, he turned the music on the radio up. Following along out of tune and off key, his voice belted out “I wanna rock and roll all night, and part of every day;” he knew these lyrics were wrong, just as wrong as what he had done.
The last time she was near woods this thick was when he had taken her. Scooped her right out of the park. She had seen the rose, it enchanted her. Until she saw the blood roped around a thick, veiny forearm. Black eyes looming behind the velvety petals. Her enchantment turned to frozen terror as he lifted her off the ground. She had a harder time carrying some of her thickest hardcovers, then he did picking her up, cradling her close. He kept her face pressed into his muscular chest. His pecs ate her screams, leaving her little to no hope. She had instinctively reached for her book. Something to hold onto – emotionally, physically. It wasn’t like she had splurged for the hardcover, a paperback wasn’t going to do much. Standing there, she shook her head, she hadn’t seen a book in days, weeks. However, long it had been. The overcast sky grew darker as she approached the forest. Her run had become a fast walk. The bottoms of her feet were sore already and she hadn’t even stepped into the forest yet. She looked out ahead. The darkness called to her. Once more she checked her phone. Even if she couldn’t make a call, she would take the comforting sounds of an audiobook at this point. The last time she saw darkness the likes of the forest ahead was in the trunk of his car. She took a small breath in, the fresh air, the smell of pine tingling at her nose and throat. At least this darkness smelled more of hope.
He had known he was in for a fight when he pulled the Eldorado around the back of the house to get her out. Whatever spell the rose had put her under, whatever calm she had when he picked her up was long gone. Before he had even pulled in the drive, he had known it was going to be fun for him, almost arousing. The gravel gave way under the weight of the car as it made the bend coming to an abrupt stop. His knuckles white from gripping the once creamy leather steering wheel now streaked in a rusty red, when his eyes locked on the willow tree off to the right of the shed. He always had a hard time looking away from it. The tree messed with him, always had, it seemed to come alive at night. Forests in general messed with him. Even while he was watching her now from his tree stand, she was a small dot getting sucked into the dark woods. He sat there, still thinking of the willow tree, of home, of the night everything changed. Being blamed for your mother’s death in a town like this had repercussions that the whole family would have to endure. The leaves rustled in the night air sounding like it was telling him “shhh” as if it knew his secret. Branches danced in the wind scratching on the side of the shed like it was tormenting him like nails on a black board. Not that he spent much time in school after it happened, he didn’t have much choice but to bury it deep inside, and move on.
Confident that she had put enough space behind her, behind the whole experience she slowed down. Her aching feet begging her to break with every turtle step she took. His words raced through her mind faster than the chills up her back. She wasn’t going to be taken again, not this time. She looked down at the ground where she had come from. It didn’t seem like she had left too visible tracks, but that didn’t matter too much. He was a hunter, a born killer. People like that, they had instincts. She thought about all the books she read, romances, love stories, even dark romanances. . . none of them taught her how to survive in the woods. There was that one book with that scene where the female main character and her former-stalker-now-boyfriend, the one who saved her. She had ordered a men’s belt the same day. It was at home in her closet, waiting for her to have her own boyfriend she could give it to. The difference was they had fallen in love, and in that scene in those woods, they were playing cat and mouse. They were fictional. She looked down at her clothes, scratched and torn. Blooms of blood covering patches. Pieces of her sundress, missing or held together at best by a compound of blood and dirt. She wasn’t meant for this, but hell if she wouldn’t survive. Ahead the darkness ate up the treescape. Somewhere there was running water. It sounded closer than before. She knew if she could make it out, she could find help. Inhaling, she focused on the feel of the damp earth beneath her foot.
He knew the woods well, even though they haunted him. He also knew the direction she was heading. Too bad for her the running water she heard was too deep, and too rough to cross at night and she was going to be stuck closer to her personal hell than she thought. This was a perfect game of cat and mouse.
She wove through the trees. The sounds of running water playing tricks on her. How something so large, so powerful could move so deftly, stay so hidden boggled her mind. She had heard it, even seen it ahead – glimpses of movement, the twinkle of water catching small, sparse fragments of light. Maybe she was really losing her mind. Like a mouse deprived of cheese. Didn’t they eventually chew through the boxes? Or was that rats? She didn’t want to be a rat, in or out of a cage. She was too afraid to be angry. In the past two or three zigzags there had been other noises. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was. She wasn’t stupid enough to think it was nighttime yet. How much darker would it get then? Tears pricked her eyes. Not again, she thought to herself. Her nose crinkled, like that damn mouse, she wasn’t gnawing at cheese. She sniffled. She had to keep moving. The distant beating of hooves gave her the impression dusk was here, and would soon be settling into night. Deer were going to be the least of her problems. She pushed away her budding tears and forced her feet forward. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice asked, what else so large and so powerful can move so deftly and stay so hidden in these woods?
Watching her as the hazy sun faded into the horizon, and darkness settled in, he thought again of her legs bound and kicking out at him as the trunk release popped open. The white lace trim on her white cotton panties caught his eye, her butt cheek exposed from her flailing. Subtle but sexy, not noticeable unless you had a craving to be settled. He stared at her intently as she was huddled in an almost fetal position, his large hand pressing on her thigh to keep her at bay. Her hands bound together with some old rope from the barn he had taken earlier that day. It would have been so easy to toss her to the ground and give into temptation and take everything from her at that moment. A throbbing sensation that made him feel like a man, pulsing against the zipper of his pants, strong and violent. An act easy enough for him to go through with, if it hadn’t been for the screams in his head being played over and over like a song stuck on repeat. Grabbing her by the hair and pulling her out, he walked her, doing his best not to drag her into the yard as she kept losing her footing. With his hand so large compared to her small frame, gripping the nape of her neck, his fingers wrapped halfway way around her squeezing pressure points while the other pulled open the barn door. He swept his leg back and forth moving hay from the floor, and put her in a horse stall. She was tied to the old hook that once held a saddle.
Hunters, like the fat cat trying to pluck her apart like he’s Syvester and she’s Tweety, usually have blinds. She remembered learning about them from a book once. If she could find one, or even a tree short enough for her to climb but big enough for her to hide in, she could take shelter. Deceive the hunter, the one she now saw in every approaching tree trunk. Tufts of leaves formed the massive size of his cranium as he lurked. The bottom of her feet lost feeling too many thoughts ago. She had been moving, picking up her pace, until she was pitched forward. Too scared to scream she had bit down on her lip. She was relieved that she hadn’t pierced it. Maybe it had been too many books, but she tore off a dangling shred from her dress and held it to her lip. She didn’t need to help him track her, not more than her ignorance was already doing. She refused to look down, to assess any damages. She can’t stomach reading about people with bent back nails, broken fingers or toes. Throw up would be too easy of a mark for him to track her with. Her lip had stopped bleeding long after the shred of dress had been completely soaked. She tucked it into her pocket. She could always buy a new sundress. When she had realized the absence of pain from her feet she knew she should have been afraid. Instead, it seemed like the best time to find shelter.
He had given her enough slack to sit up, but not enough to get off the hook. Keeping her in the stall would only be temporary, until she realized she needed him, wanted him, loved him. He would save her as much as she saved him. Just like the stories his mother would read at night while she tucked him in, all tight in bed with a kiss on his forehead, and a gentle rub of his shoulder. The villain was never really a bad guy, never a true monster, he was just misunderstood.
Pain through her shoulder, her clavicle. It radiated down her arm. She had misjudged. Her feet had been too numb from the walking, the fall. She hadn’t been able to fully connect with the branch, her finger tips barely reached the top and BAM. She had crashed down to the earth. Pain in her arm, fear in her heart, and her damn feet were still numb. He had kept her tied up in the barn. A stall for horses, not that there had been any around. The pull in her chest, the tightness, the soreness. She would have given anything to have him lower her arms earlier. She looked down at the left arm. It hung loosely, swaying with her erratic breathing. She couldn’t move it. Dread stirred in her chest. Soft at first, like the shuffling of feet she heard in the distance. Too many to be him – that monster. She held her breath. She wasn’t sure it mattered anymore what was out there, but she wanted a fighting chance.
As the door to the barn was closed, a beam had been laid across the opening to make sure nothing could get out, blood ran down his hand, circling around his wrist and on to his forearm. Knuckles torn open from beating against the splintered weathered siding. Seeing, but not remembering, slipping again, a rabbit hole we can’t fall into. Not now, she has been gone for years, why was this happening now?
She braced herself against a tree. In the movies they always had something to bite down on, but she needed shelter. She needed her arm back. She tried to remember that scene from that movie – the one with that actor before he became a Jesus freak. Someone had held his arm. She looked at the trees around here. Trees were multiplying and merging before her eyes. The pain was blinding. When she finally found one that had two branches at arm level her stomach dropped. It was going to hurt, but nothing more than what he would do if he found her. With care and tears rolling down her cheeks, she could feel the dirt caked onto her skin, she angeled her arm between them. Before she had taken a full breath she wretched herself away from the limbs. A howl broke the deafening silence. For a moment she wondered was it him? Was he truly a beast? Then as the shock wore off and the throbbing sensation pulsed throughout her arm. She staggered forward. Fear kept her on her feet. Fear of him, the monster, the one she saw earlier coming undone. His face slack and deformed. Void of anything but violence. How he muttered to himself, incoherently. Trapped in what she was sure was his vicious, depraved thoughts. In his blind rage, he had forgotten to tire her back up. For a moment it seemed as if he was trying to protect her. The only thing she had needed saving from was him. She said as much. It had cost her, but the price she had paid had earned her freedom. He wasn’t taking care of her, not the way he babbled about, he was worse than some low level scumbag taking care of a political liability. He wouldn’t just defame her, he would kill her. . . but only if he caught her.
As he sat in his tree stand watching her every move, he knew she would have to stop for the night. The brush was so thick between the trees, you could barely see your next step, let alone where you were running off to. He climbed down and headed off to the house for the evening. Thinking to himself, a head start may make this game more interesting. Throwing the door open to his home, and grabbing his crossbow, he sat at the kitchen table. Swiping his arm across he wiped the empty bottles of whiskey and paper plates with leftover pizza crust on them to the floor. He propped up the crossbow, set the safety, and pulled back the string to set it in place. He grabbed a pad of paper and about a half dozen arrows. Each one had an affixed note tied to them. If she was going to run and not be his, he had no reason not to torture her. The only pain greater than physical, is mental, and he wanted to break her.
Her vision returned as the pain lessened to a dull ache. If anything else hurt her she wasn’t yet aware of it. Her feet, still tired and sore; bloodied, bare and numb were trudging forward. The layered and cracked mud had almost made a protective barrier. She couldn’t see it. It was too dark for that. For as much as it made her clunky in her steps, no worse than the twigs or rocks, she was grateful not to know the horrors that she stepped upon. With the last rays of tired light to guide her, she scanned whatever she was able to see. The forest was just as thick as it was before, but the trees themselves were thinner. She had been hoping for a big tree, one with a hollowed out bottom. The familiar thump of music danced with the wind through the trees. She should have been relieved. Somehow she knew it was him. The pounding in her chest beat in double, faster than the music would ever have been. To her left was a cluster of thin trees, further ahead on the right, bigger trees in the distance. She couldn’t wait. The small branches, no more than sharpened nubs, dug into her as the trees forced the air from her lungs. There in the middle of lanky, angry trees she waited. By the time the sound of the music was long gone, she had fallen asleep.
A hand large and callused wrapped around a frail white neck, riddled with red finger marks. the other hand cutting the air like a knife as it landed across her face. Knuckles making contact with such a viscous sound, like the sound of two cars crashing into each other. Glass breaking, Metal and steel bending, crumpling, doing everything it was not intended to do. Screams heard over the wreckage, tears falling onto spilled blood. “Time to play,” being heard from a lone evil gritty voice.
The cold night air pierced her throat as she gasped. She couldn’t move. With every attempted flail pain grasped her body. Biting, stabbing, sharp. So many sensations. She was sure whatever had been in her nightmare was there now. An invisible monster. How else could a psycho with family and a murderous intent get any worse? She held her breath until all she felt was pressure, the kind that threatened to put her back into her nighttime state. A panting inhale. A rough exhale. She pushed and pulled air through her until her body stopped shaking and evened itself out. As much as it could even out. . . she could still feel his calloused and clammy hands on her. A small shred of light threatened the purveying darkness of the woods. It would be morning soon. He would be back out, if he wasn’t tucked in his own hideout already. She shimmied out of the trees, just as tightly woven and painful as the night before. Her body wobbled as she fought against the stiffness in her to straighten out. Without thought she set her eyes on the larger trees. Hopeful she would be able to sit behind one, if only for a minute.
Waking the next morning, walking across the lawn, keys in hand, he opened the trunk of the Eldorado. Setting his gear inside, opened the door and jumped in. Leaning across the console, and reaching into the glove box he grabbed a yellow bottle, popped the top and chugged back a few pills. With two pumps of the gas pedal, and a turn of the key, the motor purred. It was a brisk morning. The kind a sweatshirt was needed for, but by 11 am you were more comfortable in a t-shirt. Dew settled on the grass, and a haze of fog was starting to dissipate. Perfect morning for a game. Grabbing hold of the column shifter and dropping it down to “D” he was off. He didn’t have to drive too far, he remembered where he saw her last. He was hoping she would be stupid enough to come back toward the road, and make his life easy. Either way, he was ready.
She had been wrong. So damn wrong. But it had called her, a whisper really. The largest tree. The one with a small spurt of new leaves. She could sit, she could pee, she could even wipe herself. A moment of normalcy in a world of chaos and terror. She had set her sights too strongly. Her muddy foot, dampened by something, had slipped. With a splash loud enough to wake the sun, her body had landed in the water. She had grabbed onto the winding tree branch. Tingles shot through her arm while numbness kissed her legs. The water was cold, she had barely been able to hold on. But she had. Somehow, she had held on enough to drag herself to the forest floor. Her shirt had completely ripped in half. Barely covered, wet from pee and river water. She wasn’t sure if she was crying or if her face had gotten wet. It didn’t matter. The water would flow toward the bottom of the mountain range. Toward the visitors center, the ranger. . . Hope numbed the chunks of wood and bits of rock that jabbed her; the bugs that touched her. She crawled until the light of morning kissed her skin. The break in the forest just ahead. She could see it. The road had to be there. Maybe, just maybe. As she sat there now, at the edge of the forest, she weighed her options. There wasn’t a road. Maybe a dirt one, but from the overgrown grass she doubted it. There was an open field. A hill. It certainly would help her to figure out where she was going. She sat, her body fighting sleep, fighting her instincts to just stop. Did she risk it?
Pulling off the side of the road in a clearing, so as not to be seen too much, he opened the trunk and gathered his equipment. It was clear she had been here, leaving him plenty of traces to track. As he walked into the woods, clearing branches from his face he thought about the morning after she came to stay with him. Bringing her breakfast and trying to feed her some oatmeal. How ungrateful she was, as he tried to brush her hair from her face.Trying to tuck it behind her ear to see her beautiful bone structure, she had the highest cheekbones he had ever seen. Reality smacked him in the face as a branch snapped back and made contact with his nose, the same way her spit did. Anger filling his body.
“I can and I will,” her fourth grade gym teacher screamed behind her. Each step, her body burned. Each step her muscles threatened to burst or rip. Explode. She didn’t know how muscles worked. Not the ones body builders used. Her most used muscles were her eyes. Hundreds and hundreds of books. She had muttered to herself every step of the way. Mr. Wofree resurrected himself from his steroid overdose to motivate her. The lone tree at the top had surprised her. Before the rotting smell of decay had consumed the air in her lungs she had wondered if it was a mirage. Her hope plummeted faster to the ground than her knees, as each cherry she picked was rotted and mealy. For a moment she thought she heard a car, the revving sound of hope. Cold mush pushed through her fingers and she strained to lift her upper body. The smell of decay once again swirled in her nose. If it was a car, she was exposed. In the distance, a small figure broke through the forest. Shit, she thought to herself.
Walking, turning into a jog, turning into a run, stopping at a clearing on top of a hill, he saw her. Torn and tattered, nothing looking like the first time he picked her out. The only thing standing between them was a small cherry tree. He planted this tree when they were young.. It was home base in a game of tag they used to play, he knew you could see for 3 miles in every direction, it wasn’t cheating, it was being safe.. She had nowhere to go, and he couldn’t lose anymore.