Stepping off of the charter bus inside the park entrance, I'm greeted by a fresh autumn breeze mingled with scents of fallen leaves, earth, evergreen and damp foliage. The colorful woodland scenery surrounding me is magnificent. Nearly every tree is ablaze in crimson reds, bright oranges, rich golds and deep evergreens.
Approaching the dark brown log cabin style visitor center, I took a trail map off of a brochure rack mounted on the wall next to the building's front door. Removing my iPhone from my front vest pocket to message Kyra that I'd arrived, I cursed under my breath, discovering I was receiving zero phone signal out here. Great. Absolutely wonderful...
Opening the map, I locate and mark the trails I'm interested in hiking today. Acadia National Park is filled with spectacular views, craggy shorelines, deep white pine forest, and overlooks. I definitely want to hike up to Sergeants Peak, which is a bit more of a challenging hike. From there, I can either continue heading north or eastward on a variety of trails that will pass by waterfalls, stone bridges, breathtaking rocky shorelines, and all sorts of natural formations. Before embarking on today's adventure, though, I will be taking a quick break to utilize indoor plumbing and privacy.
Adjusting the chest and torso straps on my backpack to balance out the weight distribution on my shoulders and back, I head in the direction of the trail head that will take me to Sergeants Peak, with a height of 1362 ft. It's a challenging trail with portions of steep rocky inclines, winding granite steps, heart-palpitating drop-offs, and uneven, rocky trails that will require a moderate amount of climbing. Sounds right up my alley.
From that point I will descend south away from the peak to Jordon Pond House, a large visitor center and scenic overlook which also has a bus stop. IF I arrive back on time today, I will take the bus back home. Otherwise, I will set up camp a little way off the hiking trail overnight and make my way there first thing in the morning. Hopefully, at some point, I can get a cell signal to text Kyra, so she doesn't lose her ever loving mind worrying about me.
I love that girl to death, but during these last two years it feels like our relationship dynamic has shifted towards her behaving as more of a motherly figure than my own mother at times. I know she means well though, and I try not to make too much of a fuss over it.
Making my way past the start of the trail head, a cute elderly couple comes into view walking towards me on their way off of the trail head holding hands. In their free hands they both hold onto hand-carved wood walking sticks. They are both a little out of breath and smiling adorably at one another, immersed in a quiet conversation.
Tipping my head in their direction, I wished them a friendly good morning as we passed.
"Good morning. The trails are stunning today." The elderly man said to me in passing.
"A perfect day for an Autumn hike." The elderly woman added with a polite smile.
"I'm really looking forward to the views. Enjoy the rest of your day." I smiled at them with a small wave.
The smile remains on my face climbing further up the trail. I can only hope to be that energetic and enjoying life the way they both clearly are at their age. To be so obviously in love with each other after decades of marriage. Of course, I am assuming they've been married for decades. For all I know, they are maybe dating or just recently met. But with the way they behaved towards one another, I highly doubt that's the case. The depth of endearment in the elderly man's eyes while he was speaking with his wife was undeniable.
Kicking a decent sized rock off the packed dirt trail with a snort, a stabbing pain pierces my chest from my current thoughts. That could have been Randy and me forty years from now if things had gone differently.
The smile on my face slips away into a frown. When will I stop missing and thinking about him constantly? It's been just over two years since we broke up and almost a year since we last spoke. I've been out on a few dates with other guys over the past several months, but none of those resulted in me desiring to take things any further with them.
The guys I had gone out with were nice enough and treated me wonderfully on our dates. Taking me out for a nice dinner and catching a movie afterward or going on an evening stroll together along the shoreline and numerous docks of the island. One guy even took me up to a lighthouse on a moonless clear night for stargazing. The stars were breathtaking that night, and he was utterly romantic. But there was no spark, heat, or attraction that happened afterward between us. Well, at least any that I felt. The same feelings occurred with him as they had with the couple of other guys I went out with. I felt nothing.
Reaching a point along the trail that requires more of my attention and physical abilities, I decided it was a good time to take a break for a quick lunch. Planting my behind on a rock large enough to double as a stool just off of the trail, I unclipped the straps from my chest and waist and swung the large backpack to the ground between my feet. Taking a glance at my watch to check the time, I was surprised to see it was already after two in the afternoon. I should be well past the half-way point on the trail that leads to the top of the peak.
Taking a generous bite out of the Mesquite deli sliced turkey, lettuce, tomato and cheddar cheese sandwich I had packed this morning, a little groan of satisfaction escaped as the different flavors and textures mingled together in my mouth. Guess I didn't realize how hungry I was.
At this current point along the trail, the towering pine-rich woods surrounding me are dense, creating a canopy that deeply shades this particular location. A large drop of something wet splatters on my nose. Glancing up cautiously, I was expecting to see a bird on a branch somewhere above my head, blissfully unaware that it had just crapped on my face. I don't see a single bird or creature on any of the visible branches of the surrounding trees. I do, however, notice, the sky doesn't appear as bright and clear as it did earlier.
Wiping my nose off, I examine my fingers and find them wet with what looks and smells thankfully to only be water. Huh... Another large drop lands on top of my bent knee, leaving behind a darkened circle after the water absorbs into my jeans. Then another and another large drop of water splattered on top of my head.
I heard and smelled the incoming torrent of rain crashing down on the dense wooded mountainside before I saw it. It wasn't supposed to rain at all today! Shit, shitty, shit!
Jumping to my feet, I dig down into the backpack, desperately searching for the waterproof rain poncho before I'm completely drenched. Why didn't I think of packing it near the top? Right as my fingers come into contact with the waterproof fabric, buckets of cruelly cold rain shower down from above. The dense evergreen canopy overhead does nothing to slow down the torrents of rain. The opposite happens, in fact, as the heavy downpour batters through the trees, sending broken branches and twigs plummeting down on top of and all around me. The roar of the intense rainfall drowns out any other sounds and becomes disorienting.
Yanking the poncho out of the bag, I threw it over my now soaking-wet head and clothes. Pulling the rain guard over the top of the backpack, now sitting on the same rock I was previously resting on, I take in the surrounding situation before deciding whether to stay put and wait this out or to keep moving forward and attempt to take my time through the onslaught of rain.
The decision is instantly made for me as I caught sight of the muddy, debris-filled, and churning swell of water rushing down the steep slope, heading directly for me. Throwing the backpack on my back, I turned around and book it as fast as I could pump my legs down the rough terrain of the tree-filled mountainside. I can't see the trail any more through the heavy downpour, let alone more than a few feet ahead of me in any direction.
Wiping the water from my eyes, I misjudged the space between two large trees, slamming my shoulder into the side of a tree trunk with a jagged broken branch sticking straight out from the side of it. The dagger-shaped branch rips through the poncho and shirt sleeve underneath, tearing a gash through my upper arm. I cried out, gripping my shoulder in response to the white-hot pain shooting through it.
Warm blood seeps between my fingers, mixing with the cold rain pummeling down on top of me. Glancing quickly over my shoulder, the horrifying scene behind me propels my legs of their own accord to pound impossibly faster than they already are.
The hillside behind is washing away and breaking apart in large clumps, threatening to become a full-blown landslide at any second. I almost think it wise to climb up a tree as a way to escape the muddy rapids of death raging for me, but second guess that decision after witnessing how easily the ground washed away. When I hear the thunderous crash of trees falling behind me, I'm glad I trusted my instincts and didn't climb a tree. My heart hammers in my chest at the grave reality that this situation has quickly become deadly.
Randy would have known what to do… He was always so quick on his feet and brave in dangerous situations. Like that one time, I almost plummeted to my death a few years ago in an abandoned asylum we were checking out as a potential video location.
“Look at me baby girl. Keep your eyes on me and do not look down. I've got you, okay?”Randy speaks to me in a calm, reassuring manner that I'm not sure if I'd be capable of if the roles were reversed in this type of situation. The situation in particular is that I am currently dangling forty feet above several sinkholes in the floors below the abandoned insane asylum we were scouting out. The tearing sound of my hoodie sleeve clenched in Randy's hand peels my eyes away from his. “Randy!” I screamed, my voice shrill with terror, tears streaming down my face.Mere moments ago, I was walking behind Randy down the decrepit patient ward hallway on the fourth floor of the massive Victorian-period asylum. The walls and floors were littered with graffiti, garbage and chunks of the decaying fallen pieces of the ceiling and walls. His long legs and strides stepped over the rotten, sinking section of the floor hidden beneath an empty torn black garbage bag spread over the floor. My shorter l
Groaning, I clamp my half-closed eyes tightly shut due to the throbbing in my head made worse by the repetitive scratchy hoot of a nearby owl. Curling myself into a tight ball lying on my side, I shiver so hard that my teeth chatter uncontrollably. Gradually, creaking my eyes open one at a time, I gasp, slowly remembering through a fog of disorientation where I am. Lying in the fetal position on the muddy ground, somewhere in the woods of Acadia National Park.The light of day was almost gone, I noticed as well, nearly sending me into a panic. Moving my limbs around, I became acutely aware that I'd sustained multiple injuries from tumbling down the steep hillside. Nothing feels broken or severely damaged though. Trailing my fingers along the side of my head that bounced off the boulder, I winced, feeling a sickly matted section of partially dried blood mixed with hair over a sizable knot on my skull. That can't be good.Easing myself up into a sitting position, I glanced around at my
Hastily making my way around the aging stone brick and wooden beamed structure, I noticed all the glass-paned windows were still intact. Which is at complete odds with the obvious unmaintained state of the aging mansion. From the windows I've seen so far, not one has appeared to have a crack or any noticeable damage. On the other hand, over half of the window shutters I've seen so far have either fallen off and are lying in a broken heap on the ground or are hanging on for dear life by a single rusty hinge.Rounding the rear corner at the backside of the mansion, I stopped, seeing a brief reflection of my headlamp out of the corner of my eye near the ground at the foundation of the mansion. Pivoting to my right, both of my knees pop, stiff from the chilly temperature as I crouched down in search of whatever bounced the light of my headlamp off of it. Yes! There's a rectangular window big enough for me to climb through leading to a lower level or basement that's partially covered by we
Assessing the contents of my mud-soaked backpack spread out on the wool oriental rug of the seating area all around me, I let out a heavy sigh. It's not as bad as I thought, but not as good as I hoped, either.The extra hoodie I packed is sopping wet. As are the tent, inflatable sleeping pad and pillow, camera and recording gear, and pretty much everything else that was packed in the top half of the bag. My sleeping bag is thankfully dry and currently the only thing partially covering my nakedness.All of my grimy, wet clothing is draped on whatever I could find nearby to dry overnight. The weatherproof two-in-one small lantern and bug zapper are on the fancy leather top table, decently illuminating the surrounding space.Sitting with my legs crossed on the floor, I released a shaky breath, bringing a pair of metal tweezers to my upper arm towards the jagged gash across my skin. Once fully undressed, I inspected myself from head to toe to the best of my ability. My body is covered wit
Two years ago, dreaming of mine and Randy's first night together in our apartment.The sensation of warm, masculine fingers gently caressing up and down the length of my back gradually wakes me from my near dead state of slumber. Sighing softly, I adjust, pressing my naked body closer to Randy’s than it already is and nuzzling my head under his chin. Sliding his hand sensually down my bottom, my skin prickles with goosebumps in anticipation as his fingers graze between the curves of my cheeks.We both lay on our sides facing each other in bed. It's our very first night together in the apartment. Since seven am today, we have spent the entire day moving our belongings into the apartment. A couple of our friends, Kyra and Nick, spent the majority of the day helping us move, drinking a few beers as we worked, and ending the day with all of us gorging on pizza.The bed was the last piece of furniture we assembled. After taking a quick shower, both of us being completely wiped out, we hast
"Well?" The man asked, eyeing me suspiciously with a furrowed brow. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest, his patience dwindling. I couldn't blame him, since I was an intruder. Technically he has the right to shoot me dead for breaking and entering. I am sitting stretched out on the chairs, cocooned in the sleeping bag with my mouth agape. I am stunned for several reasons. One, because it's amazing that anyone lives here. Two, I'm wondering how deeply this man sleeps for him to not hear me kicking a window and my wailing while trying to fix myself up last night. The fear and helplessness a mouse feels when it's cornered by a cat is something I can relate to at this moment. I want to speak, but my mouth is dry and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. To make matters worse, I'm naked inside a sleeping bag, trapped in the basement of an abandoned mansion in the middle of nowhere, alone with a brutish man. Swallowing hard, I raise my eyes to the meet massive man's narrowe
It’s not possible! This isn’t happening. I–, I must be going mad. Wouldn’t be surprising if I was, since madness runs in the family… She looks just like my Annabell. Nearly identical in fact. I almost fell to my knees when she first opened those glowing, honey colored eyes of hers when I woke her. Staring up at me like pools of shimmering golden whiskey. Breathtaking like Annabells. The sound of the edges of the wood dresser groaning under the strain of my grip on the sides of it alerts me of my searing emotional state. Am I being given another chance? For what though? Redemption or revenge? There are subtle differences between Leslie, if that’s really her name, and my Annabell. The woman's voice downstairs is sultry, smooth and smokey. An alluring voice you would want whispering and moaning in your ear while making love. My Annabelles voice was sweet and rang like a bell when she spoke. Shattered your heart with its beauty whenever she sang… Sighing, I close my eyes in appreciatio
An icy chill skitters down my spine as I hear the key turning and the click of the iron lock sliding into place from the other side of the solid wood door. I jump down from the ridiculously tall bed and sprint to the heavy door, furiously pounding both of my fists on it. “Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing? You can’t keep me locked up! Let me out of here right now!” I shout at the top of my lungs into the door. I've been shouting and screaming for help for several minutes. There are two large arched stained glass windows across the room, but they are blocked by an iron gate that is bolted shut and requires a key to open. All of my belongings, including my knives and pistol, are still down in the basement. After several minutes of me throwing a fit and myself at the door, the man's deep and agitated voice calls from the other side of the door, "Are you decent, my dear? I've brought you some oolong tea and warm water for washing." Am I what? Appropriate? Did he not hea
“Roland!” The cloaked figure ahead of me roars, striding towards us. I notice after watching him take a few steps towards the boogie man and me, there's a stagger to his determined gait. His body sways stiffly from side to side. It's the behavior of a person who is severely intoxicated and is attempting to hide it. Even with me being in such a hazardous situation, I cannot help the resulting dramatic eye-roll upon witnessing this man's failure to hide how stinking drunk he is.I'm all too familiar with that out-of-sync, stumbling saunter like the back of my hand. No thanks to Randy coming home night after night, promising me as he swayed, that he only had three beers. Hilariously failing to look me straight in the eye with that stupid, slackened smile plastered on his face. I clearly remember the effort it took him to force himself to not drunkenly stumble around or fall flat on his face. “Stop this foolish nonsense at once! She doesn’t understand. You’re frightening her!” The enc
“Yes, it's me. I'm ok, really.” I blurt out, wanting more than anything to sob and jump up and down with relief. Inhaling a deep breath trying to calm myself, I halt at the edge of the woods, not taking a chance of losing signal by continuing inside.“What happened? Where are you?” Randy urges. I can hear the suppressed strain in his voice of him struggling to keep his nerves and emotions under control. I know he’s trying to keep me calm and collected. He always did in scary situations.“I planned on hiking to Sergeant's Peak before becoming lost. I don't know exactly where I'm at. I got turned around during a freak rainstorm, ran for my life, then tripped and tumbled down a steep hillside…”“Thank everything good and great that you are ok!” Randy exclaims in relief.“Kyra called me in hysterics saying you were supposed to be back by morning after you never showed or called. We've been contacting the park rangers and police just for them to tell us to fill out a missing persons report
A scuffling sound from behind me drags me out of my miserable, drunken reminiscing. I didn’t need to turn around to see if anyone was behind me, I already knew who was there. The unique, aromatic combination of leather and smoke, with a sharp tinge of copper, was always a dead giveaway.“Ye didn’t tell me we had an unexpected visitor.” I didn’t miss or acknowledge the note of irritation in his steely, rhythmic voice. Since he was a young child, he had picked up on our father's lilting Scottish accent more than I did. Along with the Scottish Gaelic my father frequently spoke in, the wicked bastard knowing full well my mother struggled to understand it. She spoke fluent Irish Gaelic, and lovingly taught both of us, resulting in my brother and I being able to speak and read both of the ancient languages.“She’s leaving soon anyway. Got lost in the woods and needed some caring for is all.” I stated, trying to sound bored and not slur my words worse than I already was. Reac
Gripping the wooden knob of the awl hard enough to make the joints in my hands ache, I release a frustrated growl and launch it across the workshop in the basement. Bouncing off a stone wall, it lands with a banging clatter, near the other two I've already hurled in that direction. Slumping down in the wood, swiveling work chair, I scrub my hand over my face and pinch my brow, closing my eyes and wishing this damn headache would let up.My other arm hangs slack over the armrest as I slouch further down into the chair, completely uninterested and unable to focus on finishing these orders. Straining and failing to keep my thoughts off of the breathtaking, alluring woman who I treated worse than a mangy dog and hastily walked out on, behaving as if I couldn't get away from her fast enough not even an hour ago. There was zero provocation from her to spur my awful behavior.That's what I tried convincing myself of at first anyway in a cowardly attempt to stave off the
I knew it was still raining earlier today and at one point was willing to take my chances with navigating the weather and nightfall, as opposed to spending another second in this creepy hellhole. Witnessing the weather happening before me right now doesn't have a name as far as I know. It can't be described as rain, pouring, torrential downpours, or even relating this to a monsoon is being too nice. Standing inside the doorway, gaping with my arms slack at my sides, the tiny scraps of hope I desperately clutched onto have washed away in the white squall of water pounding the flooded earth from the sky. I've lived in Maine my entire life and have never witnessed precipitation that is so extreme and violent. The unforgiving, frigid nor'easter blizzards that blow in off the Atlantic during winter pales in comparison to this drowning monstrosity. Sinking to my knees, I slid the backpack off my shoulders, digging through it for an extra hoodie and the waterproof, flannel-lined hooded ponc
I waited for what felt like eons for a response from Walker. For anything from him. My heart dropped to the floor, however watching him stare at me as that damn mask of cold indifference he normally wore slid down over his face. He stood abruptly and headed for the door, unaware of or not caring that he had stomped on and ruptured my bleeding heart, thumping away rapidly out in the open on the floor in front of me.With his back to me, Walker snatches his shirt off the back of the leather wingback chair, and pauses, not bothering to turn around and look at me.“I’ll be working downstairs and would like to remain undisturbed unless there's something you may desperately require.” He states coolly and strides out of the room, shutting the door hastily behind him.There’s a flurry of thoughts and emotions racing through me. I’m shaking from my head to my toes with volcanic anger and confused hurt. Trying to stop my bottom lip from quivering, I give up and allow it, along with the cascade o
After a relaxing, passive cuddle session full of kissing, lazy caressing, discovering each other's bodies and more fooling around, Walker was beyond reluctant to climb out of bed and get dressed. I felt the same about him leaving the bed as well. Tugging his trousers back on, and facing me, he glimpses at me and smiles. The beauty of that devastating smile is yin and yang compared to his usual, brooding demeanor. "Feel free to stay here and rest for as long as you like, or you can explore the manor if you prefer. Just please avoid the East wing; it's closed off and locked due to disuse and renovations. I have a few tasks I need to complete and package in the shop below, or they won't be finished on time."Standing next to me at the side of the bed, he smirks and reaches behind his back, his eyes shining with mischief. He pulls out something from his waistband: my pistol, which is usually secured in the leather holster I keep tucked inside my pants or purse.Laying in bed on my side, e
I've never been so aroused and terrified at the same time in all of my life. His large, powerful hand around my throat was terrifying. The one that was thoroughly working between my legs at the same time, launched me up and over the moon. Repeatedly. The two emotions combined however gave rise to levels of pleasure I didn't know existed. The possessive manhandling I’m receiving is something I've never experienced and am oddly loving and wanting more of. It's unmistakable that Walker is the head conductor of his sexual interactions.During our previous episode moments ago, Walker grabbed, pulled, moved and instructed me on where and however he wanted me.“Lye back.” He whispered, nipping at my earlobe and before I fully had a chance to respond, both of his hands were grabbing my hips, tugging me to the very edge of the counter. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, pulling my legs over his shoulders and kissed a heated trail from my navel down to my throbbing bundle of nerves b
What am I doing? What is she doing? I’ve never had relations with another woman besides my Annabelle. She was my one and only. My Anam Chara, as spoken in the old language.Leslie, who bears a striking resemblance to Annabelle yet is nothing like her, is trying to seduce me, and by God, it’s working. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt the softness and warmth of a woman. I know she wants to leave as soon as possible, which is understandable. Perhaps, however, I can allow myself to give in just this once…I want to feel something—anything other than anger, hate, and despair. A dark part of me is curious about how far I could push her and what she might be willing to do. I don't believe her initial intention was to exchange her body for her gun; it seems more like she was trying to manipulate me. However, it’s clear that the wine has loosened both her mind and her inhibitions.The words that just came out of her luscious mouth practically drove me to yank he