”No, I didn’t find it.” Savanah was startled and woke abruptly at the sound of someone talking. It was a deep male voice and it sounded very insistent. Where was she; all she could recall was being at the beach house waiting for her Dad. “But, I may have found something more interesting.”
Savanah hurt all over; every muscle ached. She tried to move slowly and the pain she experienced seemed to permeate her entire being. Desperately searching her memory, she tried to recall what had transpired to cause her to feel like she’d been beaten by a 2x4. Sudden realization swept through her mind. She had jumped, feet first, into the bay trying to escape from the men who had broken into the house. She shivered as she recognized how fortunate she was to be alive. Relief turned to concern as the strange male voice continued.
"I don’t know, maybe she wanted to kill herself or maybe she’s just stupid. No one in their right mind would take a header off those bluffs." The stranger paused. Who was he talking to, she wondered? Then she heard the familiar crackle of a ship to shore radio. She carefully tried to open her eyes and see who was talking. It took all her strength not to moan aloud. Savanah’s eyes stung dreadfully; they began to tear as if to soothe the pain. It had to be the salty Bay water that caused her such agony. Suddenly waves of nausea overtook her as she recalled what she had done. She had killed a man. Savanah had literally beaten the brains out of one of the intruders. She fought the urge to vomit as she recalled the sickening sound of metal on bone. The sweet metallic smell of blood seemed to pervade her senses. What had she done? Quickly she tried to rationalize the act; after all it was kill or be killed as far as she was concerned.
Still, it was hard to stomach; her Dad had put her in some pretty awful situations over the years, but this one was beyond absolution. This time she had almost died and by the sound of the strange male voice, she was not out of the woods in spite of her daring escape. The urge to vomit returned as she pictured the man she’d murdered. There had been blood and brains all over the bedroom floor. She fought the bile that forced its way into her mouth back down her throat. This wasn’t the time for remorse. She had to think.
It seemed she had survived one terrifying predicament only to land in the middle of another. What had she gotten herself in this time? Finally, her vision began to clear thanks to the cleansing tears. She was able to make out the inside of what seemed to be a cabin cruiser. Yes, she was definitely on a boat, she could see that her captor had laid her on a bench seat that faced the cabin cruiser’s galley. She examined her clothing and was relieved to find she was still fully dressed. Whoever fished her out of the water had the decency to leave her unmolested.
The question still unanswered; who was this man and what was she doing on his boat? He hadn’t mentioned contacting the authorities; the last thing she needed was the presence of police. She did not welcome this stranger’s questions either, or worse, for all Savannah knew he was part of the group of men sent to hunt her down. She felt her heart race. She needed to get off this boat quickly and alone.
Where was her back pack? Where was the gun she’d taken from her attacker? If it was in the hands of the man she was becoming to think of as her kidnapper, he could turn it on her as a way to find information or worse. At that point she did not want to contemplate anything more dire than her current situation.
Savanah calmed her racing thoughts. For all her captor knew was she was still unconscious. Savanah planned to keep it that way. If only her eyes would stop tearing. She willed them to cease. Her denim shirt and jeans were stiff from salt. It was a stupid outfit to wear to fling herself into the Bay, but she hadn’t had time for wardrobe consideration.
“I’ll find out,” The man replied. “The average net worth of the families that live up there is more than you and I could hope to make in ten lifetimes.” Savanah realized the man was talking about her; she would have laughed out loud if the circumstances had been different. Savanah was by no means a daughter of a wealthy family. The only thing of value her family owned was the beach house and that belonged to her maternal grandparents. They despised her Dad, and for very good reason; his gambling problems had literally killed her mother and if things did not change quickly, it seemed as if she would be the next victim of his disease.
She had to think. As long as Captain Kidnapper stayed top side she could look around and try to find a way to escape.
“Is she hot? Rooster, you have a one track mind.” Savanah heard his laughter; it was a very nice laugh. She balked at her line of thought. “When I fished her out of the Bay she looked like a drowned rat to me, I didn’t exactly check her out. I was more worried that she was a floater, but she was alive. Barely anyway, I gave her CPR and she spit up a good gallon of water. I think there were even a couple of fish in there.” He laughed again at his own joke. Savanah didn’t find it funny in the least.
“Yeah, I’ll keep searching, it’s almost time for the sun to set. I’ve got to figure out what to do with my guest. I could always toss her back; she’s kind of scrawny anyway.” Boy, did he find his own jokes funny. He laughed so hard at this one, he almost choked. Savanah decided after that crack, she did not like him at all. “I’ll keep you posted. Yes, I’m positive she doesn’t know what we’re up too; she’s been out for about 18 hours. Stop worrying, I’ll take care of it, don’t I always?”
More crackling from the ship’s radio and then she heard the requisite “Over” and the conversation ceased. Savanah quickly assumed her prone position as she heard his footsteps on the deck. She gathered it would only be a matter of time before he came below to check on her condition. She couldn’t play possum forever. If only she knew where her backpack, and more importantly the gun had been stowed. She needed something to protect herself in case he developed any crazy ideas or decided to toss her overboard. Her physical condition would not allow her to survive for very long back in the water. She needed this guy to give her a ride somewhere as far away from the scene of her crime and her Dad’s bookie’s henchmen. She had a sinking suspicion that she was going to be used as collateral for the collection of her dear father’s gambling debts. That would be the end for Savanah Conner; her Dad did not have the money to catch a cab, forget repaying the countless thousands he owed those criminals. No, if they found him, his lesson would be her slow and painful death, of that she was sure. They certainly wouldn’t kill her Dad. They’d have no way to collect his debt.
She swore quietly under her breath as the boat captain appeared at the cabin entrance. He was coming down to see his catch and there was nothing Savanah could do to stop him; where the hell was that gun? “Morning Sunshine.” He said as he clumped noisily down the cabin stairs. “Or should I say Good evening, the sun is setting and you’ve been out for hours.”
Savanah continued to feign sleep; unfortunately he wasn’t buying her act. “I could see you from the open hatch,” He said, pointing toward the hatch just two feet from where she lay. “So, I know you’re awake. You want a beer?”
He leaned over and opened the small boat refrigerator and grabbed two ice cold beers. He opened his in one fluid motion and offered her the other. She looked at him with half closed eyes and decided to quit the game of pretending unconsciousness. Savanah slowly shook her head.
“Water then?” He told rather than asked. Suddenly, Savanah realized how thirsty she truly was and nodded her head in surrender. In another quick move he had the bottle of water in hand and tossed it toward her outstretched arms. Savanah caught it, cracked the seal and began to drink like she had been stranded in the desert for days. The water felt like pure relief soothing her dry throat and wetting her salt parched lips. She had half the bottle down before she knew it. Savanah could not remember anything tasting or feeling as good as the iced cold water as it slid into her thirsty body.“Whoa, slow down.” The man made a quick move toward her to try and convince her to take it easy. “Sips, just sips!”
Savanah reacted quickly as the rather large man seemed to rush her where she sat. She stood up to defend her position. In one quick motion she threw the plastic water bottle with all her might directly at his head. Water spewed everywhere and the bottle hit its mark, right in the middle of his forehead. They both stood directly across from each other in stunned silence. He looked a sight, sopping wet, with a big red welt becoming visible right between his eyes. Savanah quickly looked for a weapon to use as protection from what she was sure would be a violent attack. She grabbed the first thing she saw, and held it up over her head ready to strike if he came a single step closer.
They both stood there for a moment, eyes locked, Savanah ready for battle. The stranger looked at her poised to strike and quickly dissolved into laughter, his head thrown back and howling at the sight of Savanah armed and ready with the latest copy of Boaters Monthly magazine. When Savanah realized just how unthreatening her stance must have appeared to this man who not only towered over her, but outweighed her by 80 pounds, she had no choice but to join him in laughter. She looked utterly foolish with a magazine clutched in her right hand. The water bottle had made a better weapon and her captor was still standing.
They both laughed until their sides ached. They ended up sprawled on opposite sides of the galley table, tears pouring down their faces. Savanah hadn’t realized how close her laughter was to hysterics after her awful ordeal. All she knew was the release of emotion was sorely needed and a better choice than the tears of terror she could have shed.
Finally, the laughter subsided and he took a moment to look at the young woman sitting across from him wiping the tears of laughter from her face with the sleeve of her rough denim shirt.
“I’m Mac,” He said, finally putting a name to the man Savanah had just shared the best laugh she’d had in a long time. “There is a shower in the forward cabin. I’m sure I can find a tee shirt and sweats for you to put on after you wash all that salt and seaweed out of your hair.”
Mac paused for a long moment and just looked at Savanah. Just as she began to feel terribly uncomfortable, Mac said: “But first, you are going to tell me who you are and how in the world you ended up in the Bay in the middle of the night.
Savanah Conner looked him directly in the eye, smiled her most sincere smile and lied as convincingly as possible; “I’m Sarah Miller. Nice to meet you Mac, you are not going to believe what happened to me last night.”
written by Pj Stuart
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http://www.whohub.com/pjstuart
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
CHAPTER 3
Her Dad’s voice from all those years ago brought her up short, “Baby Girl, don’t chase the ball, let it come to you. Hit that ball in the sweet spot right at the front of your swing, with all your power behind it. This is how the big boys do it. Wait.” Savanah sprang back into the room, her back hitting the wall, where she pressed herself flat just inside the doorway. The house was dark. She had turned off the light after searching the suitcase. Everything she needed to take with her was waiting on the bed next to her backpack. She considered her grip on the bat, and pulled it back by her ear, she felt her body tensing and ready to swing. Doors were crashing open, footsteps moving with purpose through her family’s beach house. They were calling out to each other. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, but she knew their meaning nonetheless.
Heavy footsteps were pounding up the stairs and down the hall towards her. Angles of light running ahead darting here and there searched. For a moment she felt her throat close off, and as the loose floor board just beyond the bedroom door creaked, Savanah’s muscles flexed as she pulled oxygen into her lungs and with force swung as if to hit a home run.
The metal bat met bone and more metal. Savanah could feel the crunching of the breaking bones reverberating through the bat to her hands and through to her shoulders, she could hear the splintering bone deep in her ears, but the force of her swing was undeterred. She heard something heavy and solid hitting the floor and the flashlight fell somewhere in what again became deep darkness, but not before she caught a glimpse of the gun. His curses filled the air. Before she could think, she swung again and this time directly at the cursing. There was a sickening thud and silence. A wave of nausea rose inside her and despite it, she didn’t pause, she reached into the darkness for the gun. There was flesh, there was something wet and sticky, there was metal. She grasped the gun and tossed it on the bed.
Pounding foot steps, angry voices were coming towards the stairs. Muttering to herself, “I can’t battle them all” and with everything she had she pushed the prostrate figure back out the bedroom door. She swung the door shut and fastened the latch with fingers that were strangely calm. Yanking on the large dresser on the opposite wall she pulled it in front of the door to buy her a few moments.
Trying to process it all, she again spoke aloud to herself, “Well it’s a small grace, but I think they still need me alive.”
Yanking up the window shade moonlight streamed in the window. Savanah opened the window and popped off the screen. She reached across to her suitcase and pulled out a plastic bag and put the gun securely in it and shoved it haphazardly along with everything else on the bed into the backpack laying there. She knew the gun could come in handy later, but it would have to stay dry. Slinging the backpack onto her shoulders, she then reached outside and around the window frame.
Her hands grasped onto a rope that hung there, where it had hung since her teenage years. Savanah closed her eyes and leaped, caution having been thrown to the wind several days ago, but hoping the rope was still strong enough somehow after all these years.
Without pause, she shimmed down the rope and then leaped the final few feet to the ground. From inside the house she could hear the intruders struggle and knew they would be only moments behind her. Savanah ran with certainty through the dunes to the dense ice-plant covered hill that rose to the side of the house. The backpack slammed up and down against her back. Savanah felt her lungs would explode as she reached the edge of the cliff. Turning around briefly she saw the beams of light going everywhere all through and around the house, but somehow no one seemed to have determined her direction yet, but that was only a matter of moments. They would see her prints, but they would lose her tracks in the ice-plant, and would not be able to guess her escape route.
She’d had played this scene a hundred times as a child, but now the need to escape was real. She leaped off the cliff and once again felt that momentary sense of flight before slipping under the waves of the frigid ocean water far below.
written by Kathy Garcia
Heavy footsteps were pounding up the stairs and down the hall towards her. Angles of light running ahead darting here and there searched. For a moment she felt her throat close off, and as the loose floor board just beyond the bedroom door creaked, Savanah’s muscles flexed as she pulled oxygen into her lungs and with force swung as if to hit a home run.
The metal bat met bone and more metal. Savanah could feel the crunching of the breaking bones reverberating through the bat to her hands and through to her shoulders, she could hear the splintering bone deep in her ears, but the force of her swing was undeterred. She heard something heavy and solid hitting the floor and the flashlight fell somewhere in what again became deep darkness, but not before she caught a glimpse of the gun. His curses filled the air. Before she could think, she swung again and this time directly at the cursing. There was a sickening thud and silence. A wave of nausea rose inside her and despite it, she didn’t pause, she reached into the darkness for the gun. There was flesh, there was something wet and sticky, there was metal. She grasped the gun and tossed it on the bed.
Pounding foot steps, angry voices were coming towards the stairs. Muttering to herself, “I can’t battle them all” and with everything she had she pushed the prostrate figure back out the bedroom door. She swung the door shut and fastened the latch with fingers that were strangely calm. Yanking on the large dresser on the opposite wall she pulled it in front of the door to buy her a few moments.
Trying to process it all, she again spoke aloud to herself, “Well it’s a small grace, but I think they still need me alive.”
Yanking up the window shade moonlight streamed in the window. Savanah opened the window and popped off the screen. She reached across to her suitcase and pulled out a plastic bag and put the gun securely in it and shoved it haphazardly along with everything else on the bed into the backpack laying there. She knew the gun could come in handy later, but it would have to stay dry. Slinging the backpack onto her shoulders, she then reached outside and around the window frame.
Her hands grasped onto a rope that hung there, where it had hung since her teenage years. Savanah closed her eyes and leaped, caution having been thrown to the wind several days ago, but hoping the rope was still strong enough somehow after all these years.
Without pause, she shimmed down the rope and then leaped the final few feet to the ground. From inside the house she could hear the intruders struggle and knew they would be only moments behind her. Savanah ran with certainty through the dunes to the dense ice-plant covered hill that rose to the side of the house. The backpack slammed up and down against her back. Savanah felt her lungs would explode as she reached the edge of the cliff. Turning around briefly she saw the beams of light going everywhere all through and around the house, but somehow no one seemed to have determined her direction yet, but that was only a matter of moments. They would see her prints, but they would lose her tracks in the ice-plant, and would not be able to guess her escape route.
She’d had played this scene a hundred times as a child, but now the need to escape was real. She leaped off the cliff and once again felt that momentary sense of flight before slipping under the waves of the frigid ocean water far below.
written by Kathy Garcia
Thursday, April 16, 2009
CHAPTER 2
Silence. “Calm down and take a deep breath”, she told herself. Closing her eyes, within the shadow came an ebb of glowing light. Her home, her town, and Candlestick Park became warm sentimental memories on a forlorn evening.
Savanah had been too far from San Francisco. It was the wind that blew her curtains, and the summer night air thick of noise and heat that left her sweaty hands cradling the receiver in her lap. For a moment, her heartbeat slowed to a trickle like the dripping of rain from her window. She opened her eyes, the bobble-head on her night table came into focus. Barry Bonds had never looked so charming.
They all stood up. "Lets' go Giants!" It was the bottom of the ninth and the pitcher retired two hitters with a fastball down the right corner of the plate holding a man on first. Savanah got on her toes, "Daddy are we going to win?" He placed his hand on top of her wrinkled cap slightly nudging off center. "Oh ... we will. I have my money on it! You're my lucky charm Savanah. Just wait and see." Her eyes lit up like a fire fly combing the wind in the summer night air.
Bang! Bang! The door shook. The hinges rattled and the drywall rippled like waves crashing on a shore. Savanah straightened up holding herself together with one arm across her waist like a sling keeping her innards form falling out. She reached underneath her bed pulling her suitcase forward. Wrestling with the lock, she dialed the number and the latch sprung open. Unzipping an inside pocket, she stared in bewilderment, "There is only two...where is the third?"
In dismay she covered her face, trembling, her hands peeled away and balled together into fists. She stammered across the room like the last hitter descending upon the plate, picking up her aluminum bat, bravely approaching the door, "I'll make this a home run!"
written by Bory Chhor
Savanah had been too far from San Francisco. It was the wind that blew her curtains, and the summer night air thick of noise and heat that left her sweaty hands cradling the receiver in her lap. For a moment, her heartbeat slowed to a trickle like the dripping of rain from her window. She opened her eyes, the bobble-head on her night table came into focus. Barry Bonds had never looked so charming.
They all stood up. "Lets' go Giants!" It was the bottom of the ninth and the pitcher retired two hitters with a fastball down the right corner of the plate holding a man on first. Savanah got on her toes, "Daddy are we going to win?" He placed his hand on top of her wrinkled cap slightly nudging off center. "Oh ... we will. I have my money on it! You're my lucky charm Savanah. Just wait and see." Her eyes lit up like a fire fly combing the wind in the summer night air.
Bang! Bang! The door shook. The hinges rattled and the drywall rippled like waves crashing on a shore. Savanah straightened up holding herself together with one arm across her waist like a sling keeping her innards form falling out. She reached underneath her bed pulling her suitcase forward. Wrestling with the lock, she dialed the number and the latch sprung open. Unzipping an inside pocket, she stared in bewilderment, "There is only two...where is the third?"
In dismay she covered her face, trembling, her hands peeled away and balled together into fists. She stammered across the room like the last hitter descending upon the plate, picking up her aluminum bat, bravely approaching the door, "I'll make this a home run!"
written by Bory Chhor
CHAPTER 1
Her hands were shaking. A million thoughts ran through her mind. "You have to concentrate", she told herself. "Pull yourself together!" She knew that her call would decide about death or life. She realized that there wouldn't come a second chance to straighten things up. It was now or never.
Following a sudden impulse, she slammed the receiver on the table and grabbed the directory. But who should she call? Who was there to help? Who??? It was a quiet scream inside, not meant to leave her lips. They could still be outside, waiting for her. Her only chance was to get some help as fast as she could.
She rather tore the pages than she was turning them when the solution appeared to her in a flash. She would call the police. The three numbers emerged slowly from her scattered mind and, still shivering, she dialed them. One after another, in a trance-like state.
Time had stopped, and when she pressed the receiver on her ear there was only one thing she was able to hear: the pounding of her heart. It took her some moments to realize what was wrong. She sank down with dismay. They had cut the line.
written by Carina Franz
Following a sudden impulse, she slammed the receiver on the table and grabbed the directory. But who should she call? Who was there to help? Who??? It was a quiet scream inside, not meant to leave her lips. They could still be outside, waiting for her. Her only chance was to get some help as fast as she could.
She rather tore the pages than she was turning them when the solution appeared to her in a flash. She would call the police. The three numbers emerged slowly from her scattered mind and, still shivering, she dialed them. One after another, in a trance-like state.
Time had stopped, and when she pressed the receiver on her ear there was only one thing she was able to hear: the pounding of her heart. It took her some moments to realize what was wrong. She sank down with dismay. They had cut the line.
written by Carina Franz
How it all began
I had to write a short story as part of my English homework. The story had to begin with the following words:
'She shut the door and picked up the telephone.'
I posted the result to my facebook profile. A friend of mine came up with the idea to invite others to continue the story, thus I set up a group on facebook to gather people who would be interested to join the adventure ...
'She shut the door and picked up the telephone.'
I posted the result to my facebook profile. A friend of mine came up with the idea to invite others to continue the story, thus I set up a group on facebook to gather people who would be interested to join the adventure ...
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