- Books, Literature, and Writing
Flight For Freedom - Continuation of Monsters in the Trees
She was frozen in place and she couldn’t comprehend any of it. She then heard a whistling sound coming from the left side of her. Her neck, although feeling like a tree bark, was moving slowly toward the sound. Her arms started swaying like tree branches in the wind. Her legs started feeling the blood flowing and suddenly she was able to move.
RUN! Her mind shouted in rapid successions.
So she did.— Frank Atanacio “Monster-in-the-trees”
I have take on the challenge from Frank Atanacio to write a continuation or a final ending to his interesting creative hub "Monsters in the Trees."
Here you go Frank!
Flight for freedom
As weary as she was, Jenny still ran with the grace of a gazelle, as the skinny fingers of the monsters in the trees reached out to slap her across the face and the tendrils of the muscadine vines reached/coiled like snares to trip her with every step, the bramble bushes scratched her arms and legs and ripped at her thin dress and one angry bush ripped off a big piece.
Jenny kept on running until one vine’s tendril snared her ankle and she could see the ground coming towards her face and closed her eyes and she was engulfed by darkness and felt herself losing consciousness.
September, the beginning of hunting season, and Steven did not know what he wanted to do first. He had his new hunting rifle and two sacks one for his prey, and the other because he had a taste for some muscadine wine. Craig, although not really a friend was someone who could keep him company, and his only thought was focused on the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of the kill.
Reaching for a bunch of muscadine grapes, from the corner of his eye Steven caught a glimpse of a piece of cloth. He made his way through the bramble bushes he picked a few blackberries dropping them into the sack with the grapes he had gathered. He lifted the piece of cloth off the bush, and rubbed it between his thumb and fingers like a psychic trying to read the cloth’s history. It was smooth like silk and yet it had a firmer texture, not quite as flimsy or delicate. He tucked the piece of cloth halfway into the breast pocket of his hunting vest and moved on to more muscadine vines.
Steven reached an area thick with bramble bushes and he could see tiny bits of cloth here and there and decided to follow the bits and pieces. At the edge of the bushes from a tree hung more muscadine vines and one tendril was wrapped around an ankle of a young woman as if it had grabbed her and jerked her feet from underneath her. He rolled her over and felt for a pulse.
Saved, or was she?
Hey! Save some for me, Craig said, or have you killed her instead and put his hand on Steven’s shoulder as if to pull him away. Stop, you pervert, I just found her, and this is no time for joking around. Help me get her to my cabin and we can call the police so they can find out who she is and why she was running in the woods and what she was running from.
Hell No! I will help you get her to your cabin but that’s it. No cops, I’m not getting blamed for something like this again. Steven let Craig’s comment pass. Okay, just help me get her to my cabin and you can be on your way.
Craig helped toss the woman over Steven’s shoulder like a gunny sack.
At the cabin where Steven lived alone after the death of his wife and son in an automobile accident. He placed Jenny on his bed, while Craig stormed off into the kitchen, peeved at the days hunt ruined and lack of access to what he wanted to do to Jenny.
Jenny felt her dress being removed, she kept her eyes closed and resigned herself to the inevitable.
Petrified Jenny was helpless to move, as she felt the warm soft cloth tending to her cut and scratches. No one had ever been so tender and caring washing away her pain, not even her parents before they sold her to that evil man, who only wanted an object to carry out his sexual fantasies on, someone to who he could his unleash his hatred and rage on. With those thoughts still in her head, she drifted into the darkness of blissfully dreamless sleep.
Startled awake by the sound of an argument between two men, Jenny lay there trying to discern the voices, but did not recognize either one. At least it was not the voice of the evil one she was running from.
She heard one of the men said: “we found her; we can do anything we want to with her!”
“NO!” The other man replied: “I found her and she is not a stray dog or cat she is a human being and someone must have terrified her pretty bad to caused her to run through a thicket of bramble bushes, and she doesn’t belongs to someone who finds her and you better not lay a hand on her or you will answer to me!” besides she probably has a concussion from the looks of the bump on her head.
Bang! The shot rang out. Jenny though that one of the men shot the other. But, the shot was outside the cabin, then she froze in terror when she heard the evil man say: “Hey you, in the cabin!
Steven thought, I’d be justified in shooting him, but thought better of it. He knew why this man was there, it couldn’t be a coincidence and opened the door a crack and yelled what do you want? I am looking for my woman the evil man yelled, thought she might have come this way, you seen a woman around here. You’ve come to the wrong place Steven yelled back.
I tracked her here and I aim to take her home the psycho yelled back and slowly began to raise his gun. Place your gun on the ground and back away or I’ll shoot you where you stand Steven demanded, you are trespassing. The evil man laid his gun down on the ground and Steven stepped outside and stood several feet away.
I don’t know your woman Steven said. You liar! The psycho said, glaring at Steven pointing at Steven’s jacket, that’s a piece of her dress. Oh, that is just a piece of cloth I found hanging on a bramble bush when I was hunting.
Flight for freedom
Jenny, slipped out of bed, made her way to the window and parted the curtains slightly to get a glimpse of what was going on outside, she was careful to stay out of the dim light coming from an adjacent room. Questions swirled in her head, how long had she been asleep? Was it dusk or dawn? Who bathed and dressed her? She was now wearing a shirt over her underwear, her shredded dress lay in a heap between the bed and her shoes.
Jenny tried to focus on the two men outside in the glow of dusk or dawn. She recognized the psycho but not the other man. Without warning a hand clasp over her mouth and a man whispered in her ear: don’t make a sound. Is he looking for you? Jenny nodded. You make a sound and he will know you’re here. We’ll let your old man take care of Steven or Steven take care of him then I’ll take care of the one left standing then you and me can have some fun.
The psycho had seen movement at the window and accused Steven of hiding Jenny.
Steven, replied I'm not alone, my hunting companion is inside and called Craig to come outside. You gonna be quiet? Craig whispered and again Jenny nodded.
As soon as Craig stepped out the front door Jenny ran to the adjacent room, grabbing her shoes on the way, from the nightlight she could see that it belonged to a boy from the décor of the room. She ran to the closet and grabbed a pair of sweat pants and slipped them on, then ran into the kitchen and grabbed some items for protection and a backpack hanging on a chair that was filled with food packed for a day of hunting that the men had not eaten. Jenny grabbed a cornpone from a plate on the table putting it into a paper bag from the hutch by the back door.
RUN! Her mind shouted in rapid successions.
And Jenny ran!
You don't own me!
The psycho had not heard the squad-car stop fifteen yards behind him and the two deputies approached. Morning Devin! Steven said. Steven Langford and Devin Oliver had been friends since grammar school and Devin became a deputy sheriff and Steven owned the one and only auto repair shop in town. Morning Steven, what’s going on? Devin asked. This man thinks I am hiding his woman in my cabin.
I am here looking for a young woman myself, Devin said, names Jenny Camacho, we have her momma and daddy locked up, they came in to the office with a strange tale to tell, they told the sheriff they sold their seventeen year old daughter to a man named Clifford and don’t know his last name and they changed their mind about the sale.
The psycho inches backwards and bumps into Deputy Lester, who promptly cuffs him. Well, well, I think we just met Clifford, lock him in the car, looks like he lost the girl.
Craig, who was trying to stay out of sight of the two deputies, was trying to ease his way back into the cabin. Hold it right there! Who are you? Deputy Devin said. This here is Craig Caldwell Steven answered for him. Craig Caldwell? We just arrested him on stalking charges, had to let him go for lack of evidence.
Steven remembered the comment from Craig he had let pass two days ago when he found Jenny and now he understood why Craig kept hanging around.
Do you mind if I come inside Steven? As Deputy Devin asked as he took the rifle out of Craig’s hands and ejected the bullets handing it back to him.
The three men went into Steven’s cabin. Steven went in first and he could see into the bedroom and the bed was empty, Craig followed then Deputy Devin.
Did Deputy Devin see the crumple dress by the bed?
You are Challenged to continue or write an end to the story of Jenny Camacho’s flight for freedom.
Do you think you can accept this challenge?
Frank's "Monsters in the Trees"
- Monsters in the Trees
The forest gave the maniac his much needed coverage. He could kill her once and take a day doing it before anyone would know. That’s when she realized that the beauty and greenery surrounding her had begun to take on a more ominous nature. The tall t
- Lost in Terror: Frank Atanacio's Creative Writing Challenge
This creative short story is written in response to hubber Frank Atanacio's creative writing challenge to write an alternate ending to his latest thriller short stories. Join in the fun!
- The Whistling.(alternate ending to the short story by fellow hubber Frank Atanacio)
As part of a writing challenge this is 'my' final chapter of the horror/suspense story 'Screaming Into The Darkness of Her Despair" and "Monsters In The Trees".
© 2016 Shyron E Shenko