Sorry I haven’t been posting for a while. I have the fever. AND the viral infection. Although a plush model of Listeria monocytogenes is cheering me up. (Yeah, I admit that I AM a little quirky. Well, compare that to a plush model of Copepod the company sent me. IT HAS ONE EYE!! ONE EYE, I SAY!!)
Anyway, I’m weaving up a little suspense novella of a 15-year-old farmer’s daughter. Some sort of damsel living in the Blue Ridge Mountains named Crysti Arelen. I’ll tell you that she’s NOT my favorite character, but her best friend, Jordan, is more adventurous and more daring. Yet, she’s still a very good friend. I’ve also started thinking of another character, Winston Birking. Some sort of puzzle lover and math geek with no glasses. But he’s 11 and the younger brother to Dustin Birking, the hero. Winston doesn’t appear in the excerpt, but he helps sove a nessecary puzzle leading to danger.
Enjoy.
When Crysti’s topaz eyes opened again, she was restrained and tied thoroughly to a wooden chair with white clothesline rope. Her hands were tied on the backrest, Her legs were tied to each of the front chair legs, and a piece of white cloth between her lips silenced the schoolgirl. The inside of her overalls were damp with sweat, and her surroundings told her mentally, Crysti, you’re in a cave. The private one, at Hieback Springs. You’re in trouble. You might be held hostage, or be kidnapped. Call for help! “Mmppphhh! Mpph!” Crysti cried frantically for help, only to be answered by heavy footsteps. That sounds like leather…leather boots. Uh-oh.
Two leather-clad men stood in front of the bound beauty like giants. Crysti was now a damsel in distress. And their looks! They looked so alike, each draped in rough-and-tumble black leather with burgundy sunglasses. Crysti was terrified. What do they want with me? Do they know me? Are they stalkers? I never noticed bulky fellows stomping behind me! “What a beauty, Nil! Look at that curtain of hair!” said one of the “giants”, stroking Crysti’s grain-colored tresses. This guy had dirty blond hair, like fool’s gold covered with ashes. He was definitely in need of Crysti’s personal neck-coverer, hair. “Yes, Boss will be sastified with this pretty catch. Jolly easy too! And with goody sound,” agreed Nil, the taller of Crysti’s captors, with burnt-sienna brown spikes and a scar to make a living Frankenstein punk. “But shan’t we do a suspense test run first, Russo?” Russo agreed, with drawing a vast paper bag shaking like it had Parkinson’s disease. “Let’s have the damsel be a herpetologist today!”
Crysti screamed immediately at what events unfolded after this very point.
Spider! (Hey, don’t you have arachnophobia?)
A hairy minuscule spider scampered out of the bag. Russo added a drop of slimy green liquid onto the arachnid’s back, and poof, the somewhat harmless spider fizzled up into a monstrous, 4-eyed, completely maroon-colored, poisonous 8-legged creature! It was no longer hard to see, it was 2 stories tall! (Unfortunately, the cave’s ceiling was hollow and high, preventing concussions. Crysti desperately wanted-and needed- the arachnid to bonk its head.) “Mmpphh! Mwwp! Mumbudy hewp!” Crysti shrieked and sobbed and writhed around in her bindings, hoping for a loose knot, or a hero. The arachnid stared at Crysti with rusty eyes-the color of blood and lust. Crysti’s eyes and gagged mouth pleaded for mercy, but the men didn’t even notice. Venom dripped slightly from the spider’s fangs as the titanic-sized monster aimed its glistening fangs over the faded overalls. Crysti thrashed around violently, her face streaming with crystal tears. If only SOMEBODY was at Hieback Springs. SOMEBODY!! Crysti squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing all the while…
What will happen to the lovely maiden?
Cue dramatic music.
