Simone Holloway
Copyright ©2013 Simone Holloway
First published by Simone Holloway 2013
Distributed by Al Romance
The first thing she noticed was the noise: water flowed and gently lapped onto a beach; a soft rustling surrounded her as wind blew through trees. Her eyes were closed and she was face down. She was soaked; but it was of little concern to her.
The sounds echoed through her body, lulling her to sleep. Had she fallen asleep at the beach? She wondered. Her mind was a hazy fog. How long had she been here? Where was she? These thoughts should have troubled her, but she felt disconnected.
Distantly, a panicked voice on the edge of her mind was pleading for her to rise and flee.
She ignored it and settled down onto the soft ground. Sleep was carrying her away when the shrieking cry of a bird pierced the fog of her mind.
She shot up instantly. Adrenaline flooded her body. Her chest heaved; her heart raced.
She looked around. She was at a lake surrounded by trees. The area appeared to be completely isolated.
How did she get here? A sharp pain shot through her head, neck and shoulder. She brought her hand to her head and began rubbing her temples. The pain subsided long enough for her to clear her mind. She tried to remember where she was, what she’d done that morning- anything.
One half-formed memory flashed through her mind: she was laying in bed beside a man staring at his back. Suddenly he turned over and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in close. His body was warm and muscular. He had a square jaw, short hair, and soft eyes. The word ‘soldier’ flashed through her mind. Then, he was gone.
She had no idea who this man was, her boyfriend? Her husband? She looked down at her hand to see if she was wearing a wedding ring. They were covered in blood.
She ran to the edge of the lake, plunged her hands into the icy water and began to scrub.
She caught a scrambled image of her reflection in the lake. Long, messy red hair flowed around a soft, round face. She didn’t recognize herself. A wave of nausea washed over her. She began to scrub her hands faster.
Long after the blood had been washed off, she lifted her hands out of the water. She ran them over her body searching for a cut or wound. Other than the pain in her shoulder and head she was uninjured: the blood didn’t belong to her. The thought chilled her to the bone.
She looked around frantically. She scrambled up a short hill behind her and found herself standing in the middle of a dirt road. She looked left, then right. Instinctively, she chose left and began walking on trembling legs.
She didn’t walk long before coming to a bend in the road. She peered around the turn and saw a parked truck. Cautiously, she moved forward.
The road abruptly ended at a small cabin. Relief washed over her: they would have a phone; she would call the police and figure out what was going on. Or, so she hoped.
The thought of putting an end to this strange day made her walk faster. Just as she entered the front yard of the cabin a man walked out from behind a small shed. He had dark blonde hair, high cheekbones and a short beard. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a black t-shirt, blue jeans and black combat boots. Again, the word ‘soldier’ flashed through her mind. This man didn’t resemble the man from her memory, but he felt familiar. She shook her head, chasing the thought away.
“Can- can you help me?” she asked. Her voice was raspy; her throat ached. But her voice didn’t sound completely unfamiliar to her ears. It gave her a small amount of
encouragement.
The man looked confused. She could only imagine what he was thinking. He’s going about his day, same as always, when this wild looking woman emerges from the woods.
She was soaking wet, disoriented, possibly injured. She suddenly realized that he was probably frightened by the sight of her. She knew she would be if she was in his shoes.
“I’m sorry to scare you.” She tried
Copyright ©2013 Simone Holloway
First published by Simone Holloway 2013
Distributed by Al Romance
The first thing she noticed was the noise: water flowed and gently lapped onto a beach; a soft rustling surrounded her as wind blew through trees. Her eyes were closed and she was face down. She was soaked; but it was of little concern to her.
The sounds echoed through her body, lulling her to sleep. Had she fallen asleep at the beach? She wondered. Her mind was a hazy fog. How long had she been here? Where was she? These thoughts should have troubled her, but she felt disconnected.
Distantly, a panicked voice on the edge of her mind was pleading for her to rise and flee.
She ignored it and settled down onto the soft ground. Sleep was carrying her away when the shrieking cry of a bird pierced the fog of her mind.
She shot up instantly. Adrenaline flooded her body. Her chest heaved; her heart raced.
She looked around. She was at a lake surrounded by trees. The area appeared to be completely isolated.
How did she get here? A sharp pain shot through her head, neck and shoulder. She brought her hand to her head and began rubbing her temples. The pain subsided long enough for her to clear her mind. She tried to remember where she was, what she’d done that morning- anything.
One half-formed memory flashed through her mind: she was laying in bed beside a man staring at his back. Suddenly he turned over and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in close. His body was warm and muscular. He had a square jaw, short hair, and soft eyes. The word ‘soldier’ flashed through her mind. Then, he was gone.
She had no idea who this man was, her boyfriend? Her husband? She looked down at her hand to see if she was wearing a wedding ring. They were covered in blood.
She ran to the edge of the lake, plunged her hands into the icy water and began to scrub.
She caught a scrambled image of her reflection in the lake. Long, messy red hair flowed around a soft, round face. She didn’t recognize herself. A wave of nausea washed over her. She began to scrub her hands faster.
Long after the blood had been washed off, she lifted her hands out of the water. She ran them over her body searching for a cut or wound. Other than the pain in her shoulder and head she was uninjured: the blood didn’t belong to her. The thought chilled her to the bone.
She looked around frantically. She scrambled up a short hill behind her and found herself standing in the middle of a dirt road. She looked left, then right. Instinctively, she chose left and began walking on trembling legs.
She didn’t walk long before coming to a bend in the road. She peered around the turn and saw a parked truck. Cautiously, she moved forward.
The road abruptly ended at a small cabin. Relief washed over her: they would have a phone; she would call the police and figure out what was going on. Or, so she hoped.
The thought of putting an end to this strange day made her walk faster. Just as she entered the front yard of the cabin a man walked out from behind a small shed. He had dark blonde hair, high cheekbones and a short beard. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a black t-shirt, blue jeans and black combat boots. Again, the word ‘soldier’ flashed through her mind. This man didn’t resemble the man from her memory, but he felt familiar. She shook her head, chasing the thought away.
“Can- can you help me?” she asked. Her voice was raspy; her throat ached. But her voice didn’t sound completely unfamiliar to her ears. It gave her a small amount of
encouragement.
The man looked confused. She could only imagine what he was thinking. He’s going about his day, same as always, when this wild looking woman emerges from the woods.
She was soaking wet, disoriented, possibly injured. She suddenly realized that he was probably frightened by the sight of her. She knew she would be if she was in his shoes.
“I’m sorry to scare you.” She tried
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