Escape Through the Woods

...an excerpt from my novel AXE

---

The waning light of the afternoon sun begins to push its way past the cerulean of day and down behind the horizon. The sky, blushed with fading hues; makes way for the impending twilight; the lavender tincture piercing through.

It was still light out though, leaning more towards late afternoon and by this time the weather was starting to cool. It was late in the summer as well; when the evenings were warm but the mornings warmer, and as the day was progressing towards the latter half, a slight breeze had picked up and was whistling through the trees of the forest.

Despite the wind, though, there is an eerie silence; as happens amongst the solitude and isolation - when it should be peaceful and serene; there is a muffled execration, which screams from the stillness; as if that silence itself were alive and somehow unforgiving.

It was enough to make the hairs stand on the back of someone’s neck. It was unnerving, even in the cooling autumn afternoon.

Among the seclusion of the forest, off the main road, there rests a small cabin, rustic and made of logs, hiding in the dense thicket, choked by the claustrophobic hold of the dying day.

The building is old and ramshackle; desperately in need of repair; each log almost haphazardly thrown on top of one another, showing the inexperience of its builder.

Vines climb up the side of its walls as if somehow it were partially growing up from the ground itself and the earth was finally coming to reclaim it.

Regardless of the blistering oppression of the forest, and how the cabin seem to be comfortably nestled in the woods, it still somehow looked out of place and yet; still belong to the ruse that was part of its facade; perhaps because it was built from the very trees it was protected by; forged from their very essence: so it was part of the forest, that way.

The front door stands wide open but there is no one around. The inside of the cabin is dark; swallowed up by blackness, and the retreating sun throws most of the cabin into a jading shadow.

The wind causes the open door to creak slightly back and forth. On the porch there is a wood chair, which also scratches in rhythm with the swinging door as the wind hits it; creating an inharmonious chorus, similar to the distressing sound of nails on a chalkboard.

Next to the chair lies a piece of wood, whittled away; the knife, used for carving lies next to it; discarded or perhaps forgotten about. The small piece of wood also rocks back and forth slightly, adding to the consort.

There is a yelp!

The sound of sticks breaking in the bramble echo from the forest. Something is running in the chaparral and it is hard to pin point the location, but whatever is running, seems to be receding away from the cabin.

Whitney kneels on the ground, having just tripped. She is covered in dirt and her knee is bloody from a fresh wound.

Her expensive Armani dress is torn.

The breeze rushes through the trees causing them to rustle all around her. She tenses up, sitting there momentarily, on all fours, her knee throbbing.

“Fuck.” She looks down and sees the rip in her dress. She rolls her eyes. “Shit, I just bought this dress too.”

Realizing that she is safe for the time being, she struggles to stand, her knee aquiver. She holds it with her hand, trying to embrace it better, so it can support her as she puts more weight on it.

She looks back behind her. She tries to hold her breath, but her chest is on fire. The forest is empty for now it appears as she does not see anyone or anything coming from where she just ran. She eases up slightly.

She knows she needs to continue running so she turns and stumbles forward, gathering her footing but staggers, however, from wearing only one shoe: a high heel.

She hears a rustling and looks around. Is it the wind? A gust comes and picks up her hair and blows it in her face, making it more difficult to see. She has to repeatedly wipe it away so she can discern the path in front of her to keep from tripping again.

She stops against a tree to catch her breath, trying to remain quiet and hidden. She stands there, completely still, trying to listen for any other noise; but the drone of the wind drowns out any other sound around her. The rapid beating of her heart echoes in her ears.

She reaches down and takes the other shoe off, which she looks at, pissed. “Goddamn, these are my good pumps! I paid way too much money for these. Why the fuck did I wear them to the forest? I swear, the price I pay to look good - “

She is interrupted by a rustling in the bushes. She freezes, holding her breath; pushing herself closer against the tree. She looks around, listening. Nothing. Silence!

She strains to hear…

A twig snaps. She turns and sees a dark figure standing just in the distance, a few yards away, hiding in the shadow of the forest. The cascading light, that dapples through the drapery of trees pings off the blade of a double bit axe. “Fuck!” She throws her broken shoe at the silhouette. “Leave me alone!”

She runs again, harder this time, more determined and with both shoes now removed she is quicker, more agile and manages to gain a little more distance from her assailant.

However, she is unfamiliar with these woods, with this terrain and just continues to run, as best as she can. She pushes past the rows of endless trees, using several of them as leverage to propel herself faster and farther through the forest.

She can feel the rough ground cutting into her bare feet; and the pain causes tears in her eyes, but she grits her teeth and thrusts herself off another tree; the coarse bark scratching her palms.

In the distance, through the trees, she can see a clearing and then beyond that clearing - a road! If she could only make it to the road then she would be free, right? Surely out in the open she was much safer than she was being shrouded in the density of the woods. In here, there were more places to hide; too many shadows that confused her, making her think she was being pursued by more than one person….

Every where she looked she could see figures - or was it just more dark corners trapped under the canopy of foliage. Plus she could not see past the hair in her eyes. No matter how much she wipes it away, the wind would throw it all back in her face, as if it were conspiring against her.

She takes a deep breath and shoves off another tree, pushing past the ache in her knee. She screams from rage and frustration - the pain almost blinding, but after a few steps she buckles. She looks back into the empty forest and sees the figure still behind her, steadily moving in her direction. “Leave me alone!”

She recovers quickly and continues gaining a bigger lead again closing in on the clearing, which begins to get closer.

In the distance, on the road, she can see a car.

She looks back again, her pursuer behind her and again she turns back to run; so focused on the car that she does not see the hole in the ground. She hits it hard and trips yet again, this time hitting her face hard on the ground. “Fuck. Fuck!”

She spits dirt out of her mouth and her head starts to throb, making her dizzy. She can feel herself lose her balance, her arms to weak to support her.

She starts to push herself up, blood running from her broken nose, but a hand reaches in and grabs her by the hair. She screams as she is pulled back. “Let me go!”

She turns onto her back, as best she can, and kicks wildly, violently, hoping to make contact with something, anything. She does! She kicks her aggressor in the groin.

He releases his hold on her and falls to the ground, his face hidden. He drops the axe and it lands on the ground next to him with a thud.

Whitney stands there, looking at him. “That’s what you get, you fucking fuck.” She sees the axe, wants to grab it, but also wants to run towards the car.

She goes to kick him instead, aiming for his chest, but he grabs her foot and twists it, forcing her onto her side on the ground. She yelps and kicks wildly again, uncontrollably, as if possessed; determined to break free.

As she squirms she feels his grip loosen and she pushes her foot into his shoulder, knocking him over. She stammers forward, using her arms as leverage and lifts off of the ground.

She can feel a rock cut into her foot and she screams. Tears form in her eyes and she closes her eyes tight to keep them from falling. Undeterred, though, she sprints off again and escapes from the forest and into the clearing.

The car in sight, is off in the distance still, the driver oblivious to her peril. She continues heading in the direction of the road.

She pushes herself harder, her breaths short, trying to maintain her balance as her legs struggle. She is just to exhausted from running and trips again, falling to her knees, her arms outstretched.

“Help! Help me! Please. Please hear me. HELP!” The driver is unable to see her. She is just too far from the road “Please, see me. Please!”

As she screams the axe lands, in the ground, beside her. She is startled and looks down at it, shaking and before she can get up again, she is pulled down to the ground and pulled off by her hair, her screams echoing, unheard into the reclusive forest…

….and the car passes along the road and disappears down the waning and winding road….