the Light on the Hill

the escape to safety

Weary from running, she clung to the old oak and softly cursed the teal dress coat she wore, its fabric seemed to reflect the moonlight. The mighty tree towered in the clearing. Its heavy shadows concealed her. For a long moment, she held her breath, trying to listen for them. The ferocious wind blocked out all sound except the thunders of her heartbeat. The oak’s crisp foliage clapped and clattered together, while those leaves stripped from their perch wildly darted for cover, leaving her hovering against that old tree. Without warning, the light from the moon illuminated her position. Its silvery beams broadcasted her location, compelling her to run once more. 

 The bark of Dane, her dog, could be heard in the distance. A lull in the wind magnified the sound. It wasn’t right, for them, to use Dane against her. Again, Dane barked, this time much closer She reeled, her head toward the sound. Staring into the dark, she searched for movement.  Only shadows could be seen dancing in place, motion driven by the wind. Fear and desperation forced air back into her lungs, and she continued her escape into the darkness.

Frantically running up a blind hill, she turned her ankle, snapping off the heel of her shoe. Straight to the ground, she collided. The pain in her knee, offset the force of her head kissing the dirt. A hot trickle of blood ran down her leg. At that moment, she realized just how cold she was. One pair of kitten-heeled pumps were tossed aside. She mopped at her forehead as a splash of something wet dripped off her eyebrow. The Northwind carried a bitter bite stinging her fingers. She rubbed her hands together, then puffed hot air into them.

This nightmare began at her favorite place. Just minutes before, she and Dane had been walking in the lighted park near her apartment. She stopped to rest on the old wooden bench. This location showcased the symmetric angles between the arched bridge and opposing bend the stream of water took. A fully waxed moon hung overhead suspended between clouds, and she dreamed of getting home to capture the moment on canvas. This is where everything went wrong, and the chase began.
 
Her small apartment stood right on the corner. Why hadn’t she run back to the streetlight? How is it that fear told her to hide in the darkness? Dane had broken free as a passing truck backfired, sending him in flight and leaving the young woman alone.

No more time could be spared reflecting; she needed a quick and simple plan. She removed her coat, which screamed out in the darkness, ‘find me.’ She began to drag it on the ground, then tucked it under a log, in hopes that Dane would lead them in the wrong direction. Just like she had seen in a western, she backtracked over her steps until she could cut across a large rock. Maybe, a little misdirection will give her more time. Dane must have done just that, for she could no longer see their flashlights. 

“What kind of people carry flashlights.” She sobbed. 

Tingling toes screamed for relief as she cut across boggy soil. Dane’s bark resounded against the wind. He seemed far-off, that thought gave her no peace. A sharp wind pushed hard against her, and she pressed on. 

The encroaching storm crowded out the moon. Instinct pushed her up the dark embankment. Stocking feet caked in mud moved swiftly, and her whole body throbbed from her fall. What she wouldn’t give to have her Carhart coveralls and winter boots. Those things she had gladly left back home. Back on the ranch in her childhood bedroom. That safe place trimmed in eyelet. Her mind screamed, ‘what else could go wrong?’ With chattering teeth, she considered doubling back for her coat, but dancing lights kept her moving forward.

 She remembered the image of the three men standing in the park. They were laughing. The deep, robust sound of laughter grabbed her attention. The city is such an exciting place, nothing like the sleepy community of ranchers she left. 

The man in the brown suit seemed in charge. The air of authority he wore just seemed part of his bespoken suit. His full deep belly laugh captivated her. She stifled a giggle as she listened. That was until the young man with the fading smile fell to the ground, dead. Impelled by a knife, and like a fool, she screamed. She had gone unnoticed until that moment. 

Now, if she cannot find help, she will not see her twenty-first birthday. November the 19th just a week away, and at this moment, she was betting on never. Her mother’s voice echoed softly. “Nothing good will happen to you in the city. Please, dear, don’t go.”
 
A maze of heavily armed thickets lined her path, like sentinels they stood firm unmoved by the gusts. A flash of lightning outlined her steps. She went just a little too close to the thistle. Tears blurred her vision, and panic grabbed hold. In mid-stride, she came to a full stop. She yelled out in distress. Dane quickly answered. A low hanging thistle twisted in her hair, attaching her to the branch. Raw emotions broke into tears. She thought the men had caught her. Like a wild-thing, she broke off the limb leaving most of it embedded in her hair. 

“A light!” A small flickering light at the top of the hill. The pain in her ankle and knee slowed her advance. All the ligaments in her foot had stiffened. Each step came slower. Dane howled, and panic told her to run. Instead, she stopped and prayed. “Please, Lord, protect me from these wicked men, help me get to the light and send someone to help me, amen.”

 As she opened her eyes, she spied a large stick that she used to steady her stride. Her ankle felt like a bowling ball. Its rhythmic beat rang out. She lightly ran her fingers over it, then returned her attention to the climb.

Finally, a small victory came her way as she stood on the hilltop. She fished the branch from her hair, a sense of accomplishment swept over her. Standing in front of her stood a small home, a sweet cottage with old-world charm. The scene belonged on a postcard. A warm glow bloomed from the front window, and the ascending smoke from the fireplace blended into the night. A small flag hung from the doorpost. A beautiful Celtic cross thrashed in the heavy wind. It violently waved, pointing to the emerald, green front door. 

She pounded on the door as the wind roared. She feared those who lived inside would not hear her. So again, she knocked. “Help me! Hello! Please, someone, let me in!” With little hope of anyone opening the door, she knocked one last time, then cowered against the corner of the doorway for shelter. 

 In the distance, she could see the path the small flashlights made. They cut through the woods, working their way in her direction. The door flung open, causing her to spill across the threshold. Covered in dirt with wild hair and big doe eyes, she straddled the floor in a mud-stained dress and bare feet. A tall, slender woman, wearing blue pants and a pale-yellow blouse stood over her. The woman looked about sixty. Lovely auburn hair now mostly grey balanced atop her head. She stooped down, leaning on her knees for a better look. Concern covered her face as she studied the girl. 

Lightning flashed, the wind fell off, and heavy sleet pelted into the doorway. 

“Well, Edith, who’s at the door!” a man with a hoarse voice and thick accent thundered. His voice mimicked the impending storm, ill-tempered and loud.

 In contrast, Edith’s voice sounded soft and delicate. It carried the same Irish brogue. “It’s a wee lass, about five foot nothing, and a wild mess.”

 “A what?” If possible, his voice sounded gruffer. He peered around the corner. There stood a big man, barrel-chested with a bit of salt sprinkled in black wavy hair. Thick reading glasses rested on a crooked nose. He took one look at the girl and smiled, a friendly, warm smile, not what she expected. It made Fern feel safe. She knew they were the answer to her prayer. “Why it’s a wee lass, why didn’t you say so woman?”

“Oh, you, deaf, old Mule, I did,” then Edith turned her attention back to the girl, “what’s your name, dear.” 

“Fern.” 

“That’s a lovely name, but we need to get you by the fire and see to these wounds.” He bellowed in a full round voice that matched his body. The two worked in unison to carry her to a green divan. Either one of them could have lifted her, but they worked in harmony, gently moving the girl.

 A country cottage with all its graces surrounded her. Dark walnut beams framed the ceiling, as walls painted in butter-cream set the mood. The light that led her here bloomed from their picture window. Dainty lace curtains let flickering images dance across the room, and the roaring fire quickly worked its magic. 

Edith tended to her knee and ankle. Fern didn’t know it, but she sported a small cut over her left eye. Marion took a knife to his pipe and worked his way around this mystery. “So, you’ve been in a wreck, have you?” Peering over his glasses as he spoke. 

She shook her head no, still big-eyed, as she tucked at her wild raven hair, trying to tame it down. She relaxed, sinking into the soft pillows. About to tell them what she had seen when a knock boomed from the front door. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. As he finished packing his pipe, he lit it and bellowed. “Come in if you must!”

Reviews

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

Hellos, Dearest, Cherrie Palmer,
great write! It self-involved me from the aghast Ing beginning.
I like the introduction of a wind, thunder, and woods.
It moved me to Fem's throbbing heart, at the commotion of thunder, Yeah!
I won't say too much, but I love the whole story. It just kept me a reading. Enjoying every line. You are an exceptional novelist. It is racy, a good thing, and it keeps me a throbbing too to see what's next.
------1809 Black Plague December

[Cherrie]

This is one of my favorite chapter books. I hope to polish it up this weekend. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter.

[1809 Black Plague December]

Of course, dear, I'll be reading the next one.
I'm so excited. It is a thriller to me. Yeah,
you rule Cherrie Palmer. ---Maynard

[AYVID N]

Good morning Cherrie!

This was such an exciting chapter to read! Hapless Fern's ordeal is so vivid in the woods, as she ran blindly up the hill after witnessing the murder. She was so unprepared and it was all so sudden, adding to the compelling nature of the scene. As she crossed the hostile terrain, it was chilling how the flashlights followed her and the bark of her pet at a distance just adds to the distress as do the injuries she sustains. The weather added to the tension. I loved the cottage you describe at the hilltop. Its beautiful and picturesque and provided the much needed relief after the scary run. Yet the best was saved for the last when he yells, "“Come in if you must!” I can't wait to find out who comes in.

I'm glad I read this chapter. It was full of suspense and so gripping till the last. I'll surely be looking forward to reading the next one. Also, Fern is such a beautiful and unusual name. Loved it!

[Cherrie]

Good morning Divya and thank you. I had alot of telling this story. I'm thrilled you enjoyed the journey.

[AYVID N]

I had a great time reading it and I'll be looking in soon as I cant wait to read the next chapter. You're most welcome Cherrie.

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing chapter. I liked the internal thoughts dear Cherrie. I liked the journey into the forest and the conversation at the end. A enticing tale. I wanted to know and read more. Thank you for sharing the outstanding chapter.
Coyote

[Cherrie]

This is one of my favorite stories because pieces my family and friends are pleated within.
I'm so happy you like it.

[Coyote Poetry]

I did enjoy Cherrie. Hello dear friend.

[Einstein Noodle]

really appreciate the 'poetic" content in this chapter! i especially lived that big old oak tree in the full moon late fall night ... "The oak’s crisp foliage clapped and clattered together, while those leaves stripped from their perch wildly darted for cover, leaving her hovering against that old tree." .. i grew up in upstate NY and those kinds of nights were many ... and i love the two characters in the cabin ..
E.

[Cherrie]

Thank you Gene, I really enjoyed writing this chapter and being a Agatha Christie fan, I'm partial to bigger than life characters.

[barleygirl]

Any story of yours is a gift to read! It's a lazy morning here becuz my garden is well-watered for the hot day ahead. So I have extra time to read a few chapters & then I find this in my reading list! As always, love your poetic expressions woven thru-out your direct easy-to-follow prose. Usually I'm a big fan of your animal stories, but in this one, I'm finding your character development so strong, I like this story better than many of your others. I will be continuing soon . . . a story that beckons the reader to continue! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Cherrie]

Writers are a funny lot. One day the pen is describing the joys of life and the next day we're killing someone off in the park. :)
I'm so glad you enjoyed this, it did start off with a bang.

[Kent Rawski]

You write so well, wanna know what especially caught my eye Marion took a knife to his pipe and circled his way around this mystery you write so well

[Cherrie]

I have to admit I like that line as well. My grandpa, who's name was Marion smoked a pipe. It always seemed like he was in deep thought when he got it ready to light.
I was afraid I didn't capture the essence of my purpose, and I'm thrilled it came across like I wanted.

[Kent Rawski]

Captured very extremely well!!!

[SweetNutmeg]

What an thrilling beginning!

I like how you got her physical description in, upon tumbling through the door. (I am very interested in physical descriptions of protagonists.) I think "Covered in dirt with wild hair and big doe eyes she sat in the floor in a mud stained dress, and bare feet." could be an opportunity to describe the color of her hair, too, instead of waiting six more paragraphs for hair color.

I also like your starting off with a bang, and waiting to explain why she was running until later. It made it more mysterious and scary, to only know she's on the run form unknown people. As this is a mystery, and mystery readers like a mystery, it's the perfect beginning.

There are a couple of teeny tiny technical problems (eye brawl instead of eye brow for example), but I don't know if you want nit-picky things pointed out or not. If you do, I'd be happy to go back and make a note of them for you.

All in all, this is an exciting first chapter. I look forward to reading more. Thank you for posting it.

[Cherrie]

I love your input and thank you. :)
I like to start a story in the thick of it, where the reader is looking for steady ground as panic unfolds (Like a scary story told in the dark).
I need to give it a good edit and always like for you all to tell me what I've missed.

[Jolan H]

I like it too, the imagery is superb, far better than mine

[Cherrie]

I'll tell you what I do. I decided the purpose, mood, tempo and opening line then let it play out like a movie. If the next line doesn't leap out at me. I read from the top till I see it unfold. If a then what pops up I give around two a go, if not I close the circus.

[Jolan H]

I think my new story is more character driven, and Finding out Ichabod Cornelius Wiener actually exists has him questioning the world around him, and has shaken his beliefs in a small and meaningful way

[Cherrie]

You're story is well played and the readers will want to know then what. So I think you need to weave the next installment together.

[Shep]

I had to go back to the be beginning to find out what was going on and glad I did. I love this line the best as always makes me chuckle. what else could go wrong?. moving on to the next chapter wondering what else I will find.

[Cherrie]

I like how the story starts out I just don't want it to fizz out

[Jolan H]

You won't because you are brilliant

[Levi Levin]

Looking like the beginning of a great piece!

[Cherrie]

Thank you Levi. I appreciate you reading it.
:)

[Levi Levin]

I'm assuming you want it in third person? :)

[Cherrie]

I think so I tried 1st person and liked the flow better after I changed it.