Short Story / First and Second Blurbs
White knuckles gripped the handle of the knife penetrating the flesh of a man’s chest. Vibrantly red blood pooled around the sharp edges of the blade. The moment was one of intense silence, though the victim’s jaw worked, gasping in wordless pleas of mercy. He was just a middle-aged hunter seeking his prey within the cold, damp forest, and yet here he lay, pale and sweaty, slowly choking and drowning on his own blood as it drained into his punctured lung. The murderer held the weapon while the labored pumps of the victim’s heart pulsed against the invading steel; a subtle and slowing tick against the villain’s palm. The smell of copper easily overcame the earthy scent before it.
Moonlight seeped through the imperfect canopy of leaves above him, illuminating the noticeably darkening patch of grass beneath the dying man. The world itself was fading from his grasp as he experienced his final moment of serenity and grasped at thoughts of heaven and the afterlife before his soul fled his body.
There was no time for reflection and moral conflict when the killer’s chin tilted up upon hearing distant footsteps, eyes squinting at the shadows obscuring the nearby tree line.
Not far from the scene of the crime, a gruff male voice called out tauntingly through the dense trees and foliage, words intended to be delivered to the villain’s ears.
“Where are you?”
As always, it was time to run, yet the hope to live remained.
Would this chase never end? The muscles in Amara’s calves and thighs were on fire, but yet she pressed forward fueled only by the near constant adrenaline high. If only she’d been more involved in athletic pastimes, perhaps then she might have more stamina to withstand this morbid marathon. Mostly she’d just figured that athletic ability wouldn’t much applied to her field, and a little laziness was involved, too. Who knew being chased down could provide such wondrous motivation to keep moving? That wasn’t to say that she lacked definition. In fact, Amara had a rather lean build. Standing at approximately five feet and five inches tall, weighing in at about one hundred and ten pounds – but she was agile, flexible, nimble and quick, capable of jumping most any candlestick. But there was always room for improvement, to provide better endurance. Ultimately, what Amara lacked in physical strength she made up in pure determination. The will to live.
Only a few short months ago she wouldn’t have anticipated a night so saturated with terror and violence. Her life was one of order and routine, the occasional fun night out, as was the case for thousands of eighteen-year-old college students, especially one in such a ‘geeky’ field as computer science and cryptography. But misfortune led her here, and now she was a murderer. A man’s stolen life rest upon her conscience.
The woods seemed to be clawing and tearing at her. Nature was so cruel. It whipped across her exposed skin and tore holes in the fabric of her blue cotton T-shirt with its thin, low-hanging branches and brush equipped with spiky leaves as she sprinted through paths not meant for human use. Even worse than the stinging cuts all across her was the knowledge that she was leaving a trail. Wasn’t this punishment enough for her crime?
Of course not.
______________
Amara awoke to the grungy light of an overcast day. It hadn’t been her intention to fall asleep for such a length of time. The last thing she remembered was managing to outrun the hunter and finding a moment of rest. Wedged carefully between two fairly close trees, Amara placed her back against one and the flat of her running shoes against the other. Unfortunately there was an internal war being fought. One side was the overbearing urge to sleep, and the other was to keep moving. The former had won despite her best efforts.
Judging that she woke in the same place and condition in which she’d drifted off, it turned out there was a bit of luck rolling around at the bottom of her fortune bank.
If only her clothes had the same durability that she apparently had. Her jeans were frayed in spots all down her legs, the blue shirt lettered with “Magid University” was torn, the words obscured by dirt and blood. Her once silky chestnut hair was thoroughly matted with what felt like every element in these woods. Grime stuck to her face, a line of dried blood across the bridge of her nose, another small gash at her cheek.
Using the trees on either side of her as leverage she got to her feet. The muscles in her back informed her of their displeasure with sore, achy groans. Dry brush crunched beneath her feet, timed with the cracking of her neck when pushed gently to either side. Her stare wandered then, studying her surroundings. Trees. Look, more trees. Some brush. More brush. Wait, was that a – nope, another tree. Figured.
Amara could only stand there and look at the surrounding wilderness. She was at a loss as to what her next move should be. As a person so dependent on technology it was hard to survive when it was so abruptly taken away. Without Internet, friends, a schedule, she was trapped with nature and not happy about it. She didn’t sign up for this. If she’d known what she was getting into, she could have avoided all of this. Well, that’s the thing about hindsight.
The leaves rustled suddenly and a man emerged from a path she hadn’t yet noticed. He was an older man wearing a camouflage outfit. With him he carried a machete and a menacing sneer. The two locked eyes for half a second before Amara pivoted and fled the opposite direction as fast as she was able.
“I’m gonna tie you to a tree with your own intestines!” The man behind her called out. His eyes gleamed like a madman with malicious intent, focused on his target.
‘No one is tying me to anything,” Amara thought with defiance, moving with greater resolve than before. While the man behind her certainly would have an easy kill if he caught her, she was built of a slender frame, and capable of the speed and agility to escape her would-be killer.
The rope was hidden well beneath leaves on the forest floor; she could not have anticipated it. Another step snapped her upside down and catapulted her above ground. The rope squeezed around her ankle, biting off circulation.
Amara wriggled like a baited worm with blood rushing to her brain. Aching to be upright, she finally swung her torso and arms skyward, bending at the hips, her fingers grasping at the rope and pulling herself up. It felt natural, good to be upright again if only for a moment.
In doing this she lifted the pressure from the ropes around her ankles, and managed to shake them free. Though as she shook the ropes away from her ankles, she also lost her grip on the rope, and was once more brought down by gravity. Pulling herself to her feet, her hands and knees aching from the fall, she was just in time to see the crazed hunter coming to perhaps enact revenge for his murdered friend.
Scrambling to her feet, Amara took off once again, sparing a single glance over her shoulder. The man did not follow; he just stood there, watching her scurry away with a smug smile of… satisfaction.
Again, on the move. The muscles in her stomach and sides were cramped, her heart racing, every beat felt like it was trying to punch its way from her chest. That didn’t stop her. Nothing could, not if she wanted to make it out alive.
Amara probably ran for about thirty timeless, excruciating minutes. Breaking through some thick brush she stumbled into a small clearing. Immediately she was intercepted before she’d even stopped, arms tackling around her. Falling onto her stomach, she could feel someone’s weight atop her back and the inside of an elbow against her throat and clenched. She struggled to breathe, flailing miserably, desperately. It had all happened in a matter of seconds. Another five, slow seconds ticked by while thoughts of impending death flickered in and out of Amara’s panicked mind.
But the captor released the hold of her throat and forcibly grabbed her shoulder, rolling her roughly onto her back. It was then her eyes focused on the thick skin of a man who had been a laborer all his life, a man she recognized as someone in that house that morning. Before they’d been split up, before they’d been chased down, but not before it all began.
They both breathed a sigh of relief together.
“Dave… You’re alive,” Amara observed. He just gave her a look that thanked her for pointing out the obvious.
“Thank you for noticing. Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, clearing her throat and sitting herself up.
“Good.”
“Dave… Tell me what you know.”
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I like this piece, it was definitely exciting and well written.
I was a little unfulfilled at the end however, the reasoning for all of this is so vague. Why is she being hunted, how did this killing occur in the first place? You get us into the action and keep the reader interested but there are still a few questions left unanswered.
One grammar thing I noticed:
“in Amara’s calves and thighs were on fire, but yet she pressed forward fueled” You don’t need the but there.
All in all this was an enjoyable piece, keep it up.
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This grabbed my attention right from the beginning and Amara’s frantic bid for life was well portrayed and believable…
there are a few nice moments of humor such as “but she was agile, flexible, nimble and quick, capable of jumping most any candlestick” any more and it would have distracted from her dire situation…
It does not, however feel complete…not by a long shot…the end felt more like the end of one chapter, leading into another.
The piece reminds me of two things…”Surviving the Game” starring Ice-T, where hunters fool a homeless man into being their prey, and of course the short story by Richard Connell “the Most Dangerous Game” also about humans hunting humans for sport…
Incredibly well written. You had a lot of imagery and diction that made me really feel what was going on, although the end was a little confusing… i’d like to know who this dave character is, why he tackeld her, and why she was glad to see him… Why was she killing that man?? i want to know reasons. The plot it very good, but there doesn’t seem to be any reason for it, that you’ve let the readers know… don’t make us guess all the time… we can’t fill in every blank… other than that, i found a few nit picky things:
“Vibrantly red” i would just use vibrant.
“she pressed forward fueled only” comma after forward
“Mostly she’d just figured that athletic ability wouldn’t much applied to her field” I would take out “mostly” and just use “apply” instead of “wouldn’t much applied”
<3 ames plaza
Your writing style carries a pace of excitement, and keeps the adventure pace throughout the whole story.
Your opening paragraph works well and pulls the reader right into the action. One weak point is that at some points it is unclear the ‘who and why’. The reader is kept in the dark as to why both characters end up as murderer and victim. However if this is part of a much larger piece it does not matter. You rank this as a short story so clarity is important.
You drop hints as to why which act as excellent reader hooks such as ‘Without Internet, friends, a schedule, she was trapped with nature and not happy about it. She didn’t sign up for this.’ Shows the reader she is a reluctant murderer and wants out of her situation’ and ‘a man she recognized as someone in that house that morning. Before they’d been split up, before they’d been chased down, but not before it all began.’ These lures make the reader want to know more and read on.
ability wouldn’t much apply to her field
Wishing you every success :-)
Fantastic description. I’d only caution you to be wary of silliness. Sometimes it’s appropriate, but sometimes (in this instance of being a tale of murder) it’s not. The “but she was agile, flexible, nimble and quick, capable of jumping most any candlestick,” is silly. Jack be nimble?
But I enjoyed the pace and you have good flow. The ending came a bit abruptly as well and is a little confusing. But overall, good work. You’ve got a keen sense for description.
I think you need to go back over and review the sentence structure and grammar of this piece… I do it all the time… first draft disasters and all…
Vibrantly red blood pooled -ly
sharp edges of the blade.- would it really matter if it was dull… and is it a double bladed knife?
page 3
“The muscles in her back informed her of their displeasure with sore, achy groans.” Her muscles didn’t actually groan…
page 4 of 6
“Well, that’s the thing about hindsight”.... speculation is not for crime fic..
“crazed hunter coming to perhaps enact revenge for his murdered friend.”- what else could he come for… didn’t he mention something about tying her up by her own intestines…
Amara probably ran for about thirty timeless, excruciating minutes.—why about… be specific… don’t be vague… and timeless and excruciating is abit of the overkill… excruciating says it all…
WORD CHOICE… BE Sparing… print is time, print is money… be economical with words.. don’t use them unless they drive the story…
“Dave… You’re alive,” Amara observed.—observed or said… one is internal, the other …well…
You’re imagery is good, but almost overpowering. Too many adjectives for my little mind in a few spots. But I did get excited while reading this, so it did the job.
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