Alone
1101 Words
Neviah
Well, this is useless.
Because what I thought was a big stick was some sort of fallen tree, and it still had roots gripping the ground.
I pull at it a few times, trying to twist it a little, but all that accomplishes is a nasty tear in my right glove.
So... I move onto plan B, looking around for something else I can use nearby.
But then a sudden, loud sound and a flutter has me running back into the alcove, and I let out a scream that echoes through the trees.
Whipping around, I see the cause a few moments later and put my hand over my heart, trying to calm down. It’s just an owl hooting and flying around, a pretty white one, actually, its bright feathers matching the snow.
So, I’m back in the alcove in worse shape than before, with a ripped glove and no weapon to speak of. Maybe it’s better if I just stay here and be quiet. Hopefully that man comes back.
Or maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. What if he’s some kind of serial killer?
The thought sends a shudder through me.
It’s quiet again. I need to try to get a different stick or something just so I have some kind of defense if something... or someone tries to attack me here. So, I make another attempt to go outside.
I scoot toward the edge of the alcove, glancing around this time before I go stumbling out there without a plan. There’s a good candidate for a weapon-like stick a little bit beyond the one I saw before. It doesn’t look like it’s attached to anything.
But it is farther away, so I weigh my options. I’m getting used to the dark, especially the way the pure white snow seems to reflect off all the glistening white trees covered in snow. That makes it easier for me to see, but it’ll also be easier for someone else to take advantage of my movement.
If I sit here with no weapon for who knows how long, that could be even worse.
So, I take a deep breath and run for it.
If running is even the word for this. The snow several feet beyond the alcove is deeper than I expect, so I end up trudging through it about ten times slower, spending more time than I’d like to be out in the forest exposed like this.
How did that guy run through it so fast... carrying me?
Finally, I grab the stick and retrace my deep footprints to get back to the alcove. Realizing that I’m just advertising where I’m hiding, I use the stick to smooth over my footsteps as well as I can, though they’re still pretty obvious.
I give up fairly quickly and hurry back to the back of the alcove, sitting down again with my back to the rock wall, holding out the stick. The sudden activity has left me panting, so I try to breathe through it and relax again... if relax is even the right word for it.
After a while, I’m still and quiet again, barely breathing for fear of letting some terrifying predator—like those wolves with fangs—know that I’m out here all alone.
It’s quiet outside the alcove too. Even the owl seems to have found somewhere else to make his sudden, startling noises.
And now, all I can do is sit here and wait... for what, I have no idea. If that guy comes back, there’s no guarantee he will help me.
I don’t think he’s an ax murderer or serial killer. I have no proof of this one way or the other, but I don’t think my intuition is so off that I’d feel that comfortable with a man who would kill me.
Of course, I was comfortable with Steve. And look what he did to me.
Ugh!
The image of his lips on Miss Blonde is burned into my mind.
A rustle of breeze outside reminds me that I have other problems to worry about right now. I can’t just sit here all night, can I?
I wonder how far it is to my car. Maybe I can get back on the road, get the spare on quickly, and get the heck out of here.
But I toss that plan out the window pretty quickly. I have no idea where I am, or even which direction I came from. And the man ran so fast, it must be far from my car here. I’d be out there for hours hiking back to the road, even if I knew where it was.
Which I don’t.
So, I stay put, trying to remember any survival skills Dad taught me, besides changing the tire. I take a deep breath, concentrating. I don’t need anything right now. I can probably stay here until morning, but then I’ll have to find food, or at least water.
I think of the perfect Christmas dinner sitting in my trunk, and my mouth waters.
Maybe if that man comes back and tries to kill me, I can bargain for my life with the promise of a fresh pumpkin pie.
A light chuckle escapes me almost involuntarily, and I put my hand over my mouth to stop it. If I’m going to be stuck here all night in the middle of a wild forest, I can’t make any noise and call attention to myself.
I shiver, and I pull my legs in closer to wrap my arms around myself more. It’s freezing out here, and now the cold air is coming through the hole in my glove.
But I sure can’t start a fire, even if I could.
I have nothing... no matches, no food, no water, not even my phone, that even though it doesn’t have a signal, I could at least use it as a flashlight, and I could look at pictures of home and my family and Maria so I don’t feel so alone out here.
Hopefully, Maria is worried that I haven’t texted her by now. Maybe she has already called the police, and maybe they’ve started a search and rescue operation. I’m far from Steve’s cabin now, where I was supposed to be, but my car is in the middle of the road. Surely, someone will come along soon and find it abandoned with the door open.
They’ll call the police, I’m sure.
I’m feeling a spark of hope that it’ll happen when I hear it: the snap of a twig, and the distinct sound of footprints approaching.
- Writer
