Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of my current WIP. Please note, it’s not edited… AT ALL! LOL
Hope you enjoy it!
~~~~~~~~~~
Sleet whipped through the trees, stinging her face and burrowing through her clothes, chilling her skin. Gillian tightened her hold on the jacket as the wind threatened to pull it from her body. Her fingers tunneled into her pockets, searching for warmth that wasn’t there. Feet crunching and sinking into the dangerous snow brought her closer and closer to her goal. Warmth was foot steps away. Many, many footsteps.
From the road, where her car still sat, the smoke rising in the trees didn’t seem far off. Hours later, it seemed like she’d been walking an eternity. She was tempted to check her watch, to see how long she’d been walking down the muddy, rutted, snow strewn road, but couldn’t force her hands to leave their haven in her pockets.
One foot in front of the other, she kept trekking, stumbling over unseen rocks and tripping in hidden holes. Exhaustion was beginning to overtake her. Each breath puffed from her mouth, turning the air bright white before she sucked in frigid air that seemed to freeze Gillian from the inside out. But she couldn’t stop, could never stop.
The worn road she followed twisted and turned through the trees. Every time she came to a bend, she made a wish that her destination would be around the corner. And yet it wasn’t. She kept pushing, begging her body to move.
Mind over matter, a few more steps.
Gillian could no longer feel her feet. How long had she been out in the snow? She didn’t know. The wind picked up again, sleet pummeling her skin like a thousand tiny knives. Hunching her shoulders to shield her face, she continued.
Can’t stop. I’ll get caught.
She couldn’t afford to get caught. She wouldn’t go back, not ever again. The last time…the last time she’d nearly died. Not again, not ever again.
Gillian licked her lips, tasting blood as she wetted her cracked skin. Hours. It had only taken hours for the cold and wind to do its damage.
Tears pricked her eyes. More than once she thought about returning to her car to wait for someone to pass by, to help her. But on these deserted mountain roads, nearly no one ever drove by, especially with a blizzard churning and threatening the area. Now she’d die in the cold, alone. At least it would happen her way and not at another’s hands.
More time passed, each breath becoming more labored. The only sounds surrounding her were that of her breathing. No animals could be heard along the road. They were probably snuggled in their own homes for the winter.
Smart bastards.
Shadows crossed the road now, the sun dipping behind the trees for its own slumber. The smoke had looked so close, she should have known. Gillian wasn’t an outdoorsy woman. Close to her ended up being miles and miles away in reality. But still she continued. She’d walk until she collapsed or found warmth for the night, whichever came first.
Head down, she lumbered on. It wasn’t until she ran into the gate that she realized she’d reached her destination. The end of the road had come and now she stood before what she’d been dreaming of all day.
A cottage. No, a cabin. A large log cabin with wisps of smoke wafting from the chimney stood before her, proving that she hadn’t been walking towards a dream. With weathered logs forming the walls and a wood shingle roof, it looked like a solid structure, built to last through the elements.
Pulling her hand free of her coat pocket, she lifted the latch on the gate surrounding the cabin, calling out a greeting as she stepped through the wooden portal.
“Hello?”
Her voice was lost with the wind and pain sliced through her throat. Her damaged tissues still hadn’t healed.
Closing the gate behind her, dropping the latch in place and making sure it was locked, she stepped across the snow covered lawn. Careful of any hidden dangers, she tested the ground with each step to confirm that she wouldn’t be tripping in a hole. She’d done enough of that all day. Falling when so close to her goal was not something she wanted to do. The weather had taken its toll and sheer determination kept Gillian on her feet now.
Climbing the steps, one puffing breath and straining step at a time, she shuffled across the worn plank porch to the front door. Her hand had burrowed back towards the warmth of her body in her pocket, but she pulled it out once again. Raising the knocker, she let it fall against the tarnished brass plate on the door, its booming sound echoing and mixing with the wind as it whipped around the cabin.
Gillian waited, but no sound from within the cabin could be heard. Forcing her muscles into action again, the knocker was raised and released to fall against the brass plate. The sound, louder this time, yet still there was no answer.
Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t hold them back this time. A fire burned in their hearth and they were either not home or choosing to ignore the bundled, bruised and beaten woman at their door.
Resting her head against the carved wooden door, she let her tears flow, the warm liquid stinging her near frozen skin. In a last effort for survival and with the remaining strength she possessed, Gillian wrapped her hand around the door knob and twisted, stumbling when the door pushed open with her weight.
Catching herself on the door, she stepped into the cabin. Warmth like she never thought to feel before wrapped around her, seeping through her jeans and poor excuse for a jacket. As the heat enveloped her body, pin pricks of pain replaced the numbness she’d grown accustomed to. Her skin was waking up and burning as blood returned to her extremities.
Leaning against the door, she pushed it close, stopping any more of the luxurious heat leave the cabin. Her breath still came in soft pants. Swallowing, she winced at the pain the action caused.
Damn him!
Wetting her lips, she called out to the cabin’s inhabitants.
“Hello?”
Her voice was more of a croak. It didn’t resemble the soft timber she normally had. Damn him again.
Seconds ticked by as she waited, frozen to the spot, shoes dripping water and mud on the mat in front of the door. No one answered. A clock chimed from within the cabin. Seven o’clock. She’d been trudging through the woods for thirteen hours and been awake for thirty-five. Acknowledging the amount of time she’d been awake only managed to make her fatigue intensify.
Taking a few steps into the cabin, she spotted the roaring fire in the hearth. She croaked out another greeting.
“Hello?”
She tried raising her voice, but it only cracked and pain knifed down her throat. Swallowing hard, she shuffled forward a few more steps, knocking on the worn plank wall, trying to rouse the cabin’s inhabitants.
Still no one replied. Could the house be empty?
Shuffling further into the cabin, her eyes drank in the home’s interior. Large, wood framed couches lined the living room’s walls, and an enormous rug covered the floor with a tree stump coffee table in the center. It emitted a sense of warmth and welcome with throw blankets covering the couch and hand made end tables capping each couch. Cozy.
Gillian continued through the cabin, praying the owner’s wouldn’t throw her out or be angry for entering without an invitation. She passed by a tidy, but small kitchen, a carved table occupied the center of the space. Moving through the cabin, she came upon five doors.
Opening the first, she found a spacious bathroom with four sinks, a massive tub and a walk in shower. Closing the door with a soft click, she moved to the door directly across the hall.
Peering inside, Gillian saw clothes strewn all over the room, soda cans sitting on the dresser, and shoes littering the floor. This was without a doubt, a man’s room. A messy man, but a man none the less. Knowing the room was occupied by someone made some of her fear dissipate. Slob or not, someone lived in the house.
The heat and movement wakened her limbs as she moved on to the next room. The door was wide open to reveal a tidy yet lived in room. Pictures lined the walls, the bed appeared to have been made with care, the top blanket pulled taught along the mattress. Fatigue was wearing on her and Gillian hoped she either came upon a guest room or one of the cabin’s occupants soon. She felt as if she drop to the ground if she didn’t get off of her feet soon.
Coming to the next to last door, she peered inside to find a sparsely furnished room. A full sized bed covered with a plain comforter sat in one corner. A small bedside table right beside it held a single lamp. There were no pictures on the walls, nothing to show that the room belonged to someone. Deciding that this must be the guest room, she treaded across the room, her shoes clopping against the wooden floor.
Settling on the bed, she toed her shoes off, pain shooting into her legs at the movement. There was nothing she could do now. Swinging her legs onto the bed, she laid her head on the pillow as she pulled the blanket across the bed and her body. Tucked into the warmth of the comforter, Gillian allowed the quiet ticking of the house’s clock lull her to sleep. She’d explain her presence to the cabin’s owners, but right now, she just needed to rest her eyes. Just… for… a… minute.
~~~~~~~~~~
Well? What didya think?
Celia
August 26th, 2007 by 
Celia
2 Comments »
