Amy’s Freedom Part 3

(The following is my latest submission to Dark Side Thursday.  It’s the continuing story of a woman within the clutches of a serial killer.  Parts 1 & 2 can be found under the category:  Amy’s Freedom.)

Amy’s Freedom (Part 3)

The Root Cellar
The Root Cellar

He pictured Amy, hanging in the root cellar.  He knew of her excruciating pain.  He had once endured the same from the hands of his father.

He would never ask Amy to endure anything that he himself had not experienced first.  No, he loved her way too much for that.

The aroma in the tiny kitchen tantalized all of his senses.  Yes, of course he could smell the perfectly charred flesh, anyone could do that, but he actually saw, tasted, heard and touched the aroma as he stood with his eyes closed.  All of his senses were heightened to the point of combustion.

He had always been that way, even as a child.  At first the strong sensations frightened him but as time passed he realized he was special and was indeed unlike any other.  He kept this secret and told no one, not his weak pathetic mother and certainly not his self-righteous father.  This  revelation of himself created an euphoria that often erupted from his mouth in mad laughter.  He tried to contain it as much as possible because he knew others would think him “crazy”.

Being different made him lonely.  He craved someone as extraordinary as himself and so he began “the search”.  There had been so many “disappointments” through the years but he was confident that Amy would be different.  He smiled.   He knew “the search” was finally over.

He lifted the fillets from the grill and carefully plated them upon delicate bone china.  He then poured the Quinta Do Crasto, Vintage Port, 1997 into crystal goblets.  This particular wine, crafted from Portugal’s indigenous grapes, was thick and juicy and pared well fillet mignon.  The steaks were resting and the wine poured; the only thing missing was Amy.

He opened the cabin door to an autumn forest.  The aged root cellar was visible from the porch.  He stood for a moment, surveying the crumbling stone and then took a step into the fading sunlight.

******  

Amy hung limp from a splintered plank that ran the length of the underground hole.  The cellar was old.  It had been built by Scotch-Irish immigrants during the early 1800’s.  The hole was barely six feet high, so Amy’s hair fell into blood, tears and a dank soil that reeked of mold and decaying vegetables.

Amy shivered.  She closed her eyes to the dark and began to picture the two loves of her life, Rudy and Sky.  Her heart ached as she pictured Sky’s smile and Rudy’s wagging tail.  She determined, there in the darkness, she would live to see them again.  Her focus upon them would be her survival.

The screeching sound of rusting hinges caused her to open her eyes once again to the blackness around her.  She held her breath and listened intently.  There was a brief silence and then a faint creaking of wooden stairs.

Amy realized she was no longer alone.  She heard footsteps, slow and methodical…

One…two…three, and then a pause…

four…five…six …another pause…

seven…eight…nine…and then breathing…slow rhythmic breaths…in and out…

Amy’s heart seized with fear and she wanted to scream, but then, with the strike of a match, her face was bathed with golden light.  She squinted from its shock and tried to focus. The flickering light threatened to die, but a dank breeze quickened the flame, and she found herself staring into the bluest of eyes, inches from her face.

He smiled when he saw her eyes widen with recognition.  Slowly he pulled the tape from her mouth, freeing her question of…

“Why…”?

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Easier To Navigate!

Categorizing-Social-Media-Conversations

Redhead Reflections is now easier to navigate!

It has taken a while, but I have categorized all articles!  The listing can be found at the top right hand corner, adjacent to the title line of each page.  Simply click the arrow beside the words “select category” and a drop down menu will appear.

Below is a listing of the categories and a brief description of what you can expect to find in each:

Amy’s Freedom:  The continuing saga of Amy and a crazed serial killer.  (Not for the  faint of heart)

Dark Side Thursday:  Dark stories for the writing group, “Dark Side Thursday”(For now it is a collection of “Amy’s Freedom,” however once this story is complete there will be other dark adventures) (Not for the faint of heart)

Faith:  My faith is very important to me and so here you will find a collection of articles revealing my spiritual insight.

Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers:  These articles are my submissions to the writing group “Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers”. Each week members are given a photo in which they are to weave a story around within 175 words or less.  (Not a lot of words to write a complete story so this is quite challenging) (Not genre specific)

Horror and Suspense:  Definitely one of my favorite genres.  Most stories within this category are not for the faint of heart.

Literary Lion:   A collection of my submissions to the writing group “Literary         Lion”.  Each week members are given one word and are expected to weave a tale around the word in 400 words or less.  (Not genre specific.)

Half Marathon
Half Marathon

Personal Stories:  A collection of articles about myself and my life.

Photo:  A collection of photos I have taken.

Recipes:  A collection of recipes.

(Future Category:  Flavor Of The Month)

Amy’s Freedom (Part 2)

Below you will find my submission to the DARK SIDE THURSDAY event.  The idea is to write something dark and scary using 500 words or less.  This is part 2 of Amy’s story.  I hope you will check back next week for it’s continuation.  Enjoy part 2 of Amy’s Freedom.  (Part 1 can be found in July Archives…7/24 to be exact)

Part 2

2 Rusty ShackleAmy floated in and out of consciousness as she hung in an old root cellar. Exhaustion and pain, from gravity, and her own, body weight, made even shallow breathing near to impossible. The vessels in her brain bulged heavy with blood, so no matter how hard she willed herself to stay awake, she eventually could do nothing but surrender to the pain.

In those short waking moments, she tried to remember what had happened to bring her to this place of hell. Memory came and went in flashes, and the very moment she thought she understood, darkness clouded her mind and once again she fell into unconsciousness.  At first this was frustrating, but then, in a sick sort of way, it became a game of cat and mouse.  Amy conditioned herself to capture, hold, and tuck away every memory from each awakening moment.

Conscious once again, Amy began to sort the snippets of memory she had collected…a cabin…a phone call…Rudy… barking and growling…utter fear and confusion…  Slowly, ever so slowly, the pieces fell into place and Amy was able to remember the sequence of events that had led her here…

******

She and Rudy had finally arrived.  The thunder-boomer had made the crooked roads difficult to maneuver, so the two hour trip had turned into three.   Rudy, eager to escape the confines of the truck, scratched at the closed window.  Poor baby, he had been cooped up for hours, so it was no surprise to Amy, when he jumped out and rolled vigorously in the fresh rained upon grass.

 Smiling, happy to see him so excited, she chuckled and began to gather her suitcase, satchel and easel.  Carrying all three, Amy opened the front door of the log cabin, she and Sky had built together.  

The musty air, that had been trapped all winter, assaulted her nose causing her to pause for a moment, but Rudy nonchalantly padded past her and went inside.  He busied himself sniffing here and there as Amy opened windows.  A cool mountain breeze rushed in and Amy breathed it deep into her lungs.  Looking at the rustic walls, Amy felt a peace that she hadn’t known for months.  She now, secretly, thanked Sky for insisting that she take this week to rest and relax.

The cabin, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, sat in the middle of a “dead-zone” with no signal reception, therefore, a land-line phone had been a necessity.   The old black rotary, hanging on the wall, began to ring. Simultaneously, Rudy, who had sniffed or heard something of interest outside, began to bark. 

Amy picked up the phone with the intent to say, hello, but was interrupted by the voice on the other end,

“Amy…Oh my God I’m so glad you answered…lock…”    

Sky’s voice could not be heard over Rudy’s barking and vigorous scratching at the screen door, so Amy couldn’t hear to remainder of the sentence,

“…lock the door…he’s there…Oh my God, Amy he’s there…”  

Oblivious to Sky’s warning, Amy laid the phone down and went to let out the frantic dog.   Rudy rushed outside.  Amy turned to pick up the phone but stopped when she heard a deep and low guttural growl.

 Rudy, a happy-go-lucky Golden Retriever, rarely growled, so a wave of fear urged Amy to go inside; but love for her dog wooed her to make sure he was okay.  Love winning, she turned to go outside.  Stepping out the door, Amy became face to face with Rudy, who crouched low and snarled at her with bared teeth.     Amy, shocked and confused to see her loving Golden transformed into something  so vicious, began to coax her dog,

  “Rudy…Rudy…what is it…”  

The word boy never left her lips because Rudy lunged forward and all she saw was golden hair and gnashing teeth.  After that came the darkness.

******

Amy cried alone in the darkness as she thought of Rudy.  Confused and cold she  hung naked from the rusty shackles around her ankles.  Awaiting her captor…

Amy’s Freedom

Below you will find my submission to the DARK SIDE THURSDAY event.  The idea is to write something dark and scary using 500 words or less.  This is the beginning of Amy’s story.  I hope you will check back next week for it’s continuation.  Enjoy the beginning of Amy’s Freedom.

IMG_1715 (2)Amy opened her eyes to nothing, and she was confused.  She tried to bring her hands to her eyes thinking she could rub away the dark, but her hands were bound behind her back.  A wave of panic surged through her body.  She tried to scream but  could only mew like a kitten.  Her mouth was sealed with a sticky substance she knew to be duct tape.   Her breathing came hard and ragged in and out of her nose.  The sudden loss of carbon dioxide brought her to the brink of hyperventilation.  

Cold fear tightened around her neck and suffocation like the grim reaper threatened her life.  Knowing death was eminent, she tried to concentrate on slowing her breathing.  Again she tried to move but to no avail except for a slight sway back and forth.  To Amy’s horror she realized she was hanging upside down.  Warm liquid ran down her legs from her shackled ankles.  The shackles that bit into her skin had been tightened by a man three times her size.  The pain was almost unbearable and Amy did the only thing she could. Silent tears dripped to mix with the blood and cold earth below.  

Amy hung helpless like a piece of meat waiting for the butcher’s saw.

******

He was confident she wouldn’t be able to escape.  The shackles he used were old but solid, and he had added a bit more force when clasping them to her ankles.  There was no way she could get out of them.  He hadn’t wanted to leave her but he had worked up an incredible appetite and he became grumpy when he was hungry.  He smiled at the thought, and looked at the spinach he sauteed and saw that it had reached perfection.   No, he didn’t like being grumpy and besides it was most important to display his good side to his guest.

Yes, he had already decided to play the perfect gentlemen.  He would be ever so kind and gentle as he cared for her wounds and afterward he would present a dinner cooked to perfection in honor of their first night together.   He reached for the steaks that had been marinating overnight.  The hot grill sizzled when both fillets kissed the iron.  God it smelled good.  He smiled knowing that Amy would enjoy them.

He thought of Amy.  God she was beautiful.  Beautiful but not glamorous, and he liked it that way.  The first time he saw her in class he thought of Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island.  Her innocence had captivated him so much that he found it hard to concentrate on the lesson she taught.  After a while he got past her smile…she was always smiling, and settled in upon the content of her lesson.  Not only was she a “looker” but the lady could teach.  She taught through example so the technique developed right before your eyes.  It was almost as if they were the only two in the room, instead of the twenty five other students.

******