the homestead. The promise of the approaching autumn waited in anticipation, a chill in the air whispering softly along the tops of the tall pines.
The big man’s shoulders slumped in misery as he entered the silent building and stood before the soaring staircase. Once he would have gazed in appreciation and beamed with pride for the accomplishment of having fashioned the spectacular flight. The wide expanse of stairs opened before him hauntingly in the darkness. As if lost in another world, he wandered up the staircase and staggered slowly down the upper hall. With his back against the wall, he slid down in despair in the desolated corridor and deep cries wracked his solid frame. The ritual had occurred often over the last two years. Mr. Elgerson could not eradicate his misery, and no amount of land titles or whiskey seemed to chase the demon away. In a wretched scream he cried out. Like an animal left to die, Timothy Elgerson wished he would merely slip away. He toyed with the pistol at his side while wrestling with the vision of his boy’s suffering, childlike way. A mother for the boy had been the only idea he could devise and that may have failed as well. The big man turned the pistol aimlessly beside him on the floor.
Chapter Eight
R ebecca struggled for breath. Was she drowning, suffocating? Encased in total darkness and hearing only her heartbeat against her throbbing skull, the girl writhed and whimpered. There was something warm and sticky against her cheek and after several minutes of squirming she figured out that a snug hood was somehow glued to her face and that both of her wrists and ankles were tightly bound.
The diminutive captive fell from the cot with a sickening thud to the dirt floor, but her ineffective struggling only tightened her bondage and consumed the little air inside the black hood. As the time passed she began to recall her trip to Elgerson’s shack and the vision of it, but little more.
Once again composed, she considered that the wad she had chewed in the cloth had pulled it forward some and she began to turn her head to one side and tugged at a different section of the material. After her fourth attempt at the plan the sack slipped suddenly and, by turning her head against the dirt floor quickly from side to side, the terrifying contraption slid free.
Rebecca was perspiring earnestly as she lay in the dusky darkness surveying her surroundings. The shack was no bigger than a large horse stall and had been pieced together from broken planks and rotted timber. A door of sorts, now wedged closed, hung from what appeared to be leather shoe soles used as hinges and the entire structure had a haphazard design, which attested to the fact that it had been hastily thrown together. The hard packed floor was uneven and cluttered with bits of pinecones and needles. In one corner it appeared as if an animal had taken residence and the abandoned nest was laced across with a huge spider’s web. Rebecca could not be sure, but she feared that the pile in the opposite corner was bits of gnawed bones and she began to cry uncontrollably, terrified at the thought that perhaps they could be bones of another person who had been left there previously. Rebecca kicked violently, her tiny ankles rubbing the insides of the clubby leather boots.
She had laced the boots tightly in an attempt to keep the monstrous hoppers on her narrow feet but she suspected that if she squirmed enough, the laces might loosen and, with the rope predominately encasing the boots, she might be able to pull at least one foot free.
Rebecca struggled for hours, fighting with determination until she lay exhausted for a time. She then gathered herself up again and writhed furiously against her bondage. Her lips were pale from fatigue and the lack of nourishment. Her breasts heaved hard against the rough clothing as she tried to breathe and
The big man’s shoulders slumped in misery as he entered the silent building and stood before the soaring staircase. Once he would have gazed in appreciation and beamed with pride for the accomplishment of having fashioned the spectacular flight. The wide expanse of stairs opened before him hauntingly in the darkness. As if lost in another world, he wandered up the staircase and staggered slowly down the upper hall. With his back against the wall, he slid down in despair in the desolated corridor and deep cries wracked his solid frame. The ritual had occurred often over the last two years. Mr. Elgerson could not eradicate his misery, and no amount of land titles or whiskey seemed to chase the demon away. In a wretched scream he cried out. Like an animal left to die, Timothy Elgerson wished he would merely slip away. He toyed with the pistol at his side while wrestling with the vision of his boy’s suffering, childlike way. A mother for the boy had been the only idea he could devise and that may have failed as well. The big man turned the pistol aimlessly beside him on the floor.
Chapter Eight
R ebecca struggled for breath. Was she drowning, suffocating? Encased in total darkness and hearing only her heartbeat against her throbbing skull, the girl writhed and whimpered. There was something warm and sticky against her cheek and after several minutes of squirming she figured out that a snug hood was somehow glued to her face and that both of her wrists and ankles were tightly bound.
The diminutive captive fell from the cot with a sickening thud to the dirt floor, but her ineffective struggling only tightened her bondage and consumed the little air inside the black hood. As the time passed she began to recall her trip to Elgerson’s shack and the vision of it, but little more.
Once again composed, she considered that the wad she had chewed in the cloth had pulled it forward some and she began to turn her head to one side and tugged at a different section of the material. After her fourth attempt at the plan the sack slipped suddenly and, by turning her head against the dirt floor quickly from side to side, the terrifying contraption slid free.
Rebecca was perspiring earnestly as she lay in the dusky darkness surveying her surroundings. The shack was no bigger than a large horse stall and had been pieced together from broken planks and rotted timber. A door of sorts, now wedged closed, hung from what appeared to be leather shoe soles used as hinges and the entire structure had a haphazard design, which attested to the fact that it had been hastily thrown together. The hard packed floor was uneven and cluttered with bits of pinecones and needles. In one corner it appeared as if an animal had taken residence and the abandoned nest was laced across with a huge spider’s web. Rebecca could not be sure, but she feared that the pile in the opposite corner was bits of gnawed bones and she began to cry uncontrollably, terrified at the thought that perhaps they could be bones of another person who had been left there previously. Rebecca kicked violently, her tiny ankles rubbing the insides of the clubby leather boots.
She had laced the boots tightly in an attempt to keep the monstrous hoppers on her narrow feet but she suspected that if she squirmed enough, the laces might loosen and, with the rope predominately encasing the boots, she might be able to pull at least one foot free.
Rebecca struggled for hours, fighting with determination until she lay exhausted for a time. She then gathered herself up again and writhed furiously against her bondage. Her lips were pale from fatigue and the lack of nourishment. Her breasts heaved hard against the rough clothing as she tried to breathe and
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