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The Continuous Story
By: You the reader.
Click on the red diamond to see the names of contributing authors, plus guidelines for writing your part. 

Each step thundered in her ears, a kaleidoscope of  sound , rattling leaves, rolling rocks, snapping branches, tearing cloth , and the fall of each foot hitting the ground. How could he not help but hear? The pain in her side was almost unbearable, but stark fear drove her forward. She had to go on. If only she could stop or pause and rest; maybe under a bush where she couldn't be seen. No, that wouldn't do; no time. When she slipped, a few minutes ago, she lay briefly where she fell; afraid to move. The noise of breath in and out as she gasped for air was almost covered by the pounding beat of her racing heart.

No!  She had to keep moving. The shelter was her only possible sanctuary. Bel had heard about others like him, who might have developed some keener senses to compensate for the loss of other senses or mental abilities. Maybe he could hear the blood pumping through her system, or smell the perspiration saturating her hair and clothing. She pushed harder and almost cried aloud at the thought of her own blood,  fresh from a new cut as  she fell. Could he smell that too?  Can he smell Fear? “Oh God!” “ Help me!” The words screamed in her head,  but did not pass through her lips.

     The path was familiar now. She knew it well. She could find her way in the dark; blind folded. An ironic sneer flashed momentarily in her mind, for it was a black night with no moon. Only the starlight flittered through the trees. “The path arcs to the left and then up the hill. If I go straight, I will find the path again at the foot of the hill,” Bel thought as she chose the shortest course. She felt the spiny thorns when she left the path, but they were nothing compared to the agony in her lungs as she ran. “Up the slope, turn right, down the hill, across the water, through the grass, then…….”

     Like a fiery blade the intense burning sensation flashed up her spine and lingered at the base of her neck. As she was going down,  Bel could see the outline of the cabin only about nine or ten short steps away.
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Bel knew she had to force herself to get up and get to the cabin.  Safety was within her reach.  "Get up . . . get up!!" a voice echoed inside her head.  As she rose her knees nearly buckled and her spinning head threatened to send her to the ground again.  Through sheer will Bel stood and moved toward the cabin.  The cabin, her home, was close only a few more steps.  Suddenly she stopped.  Something was wrong.  That light in the window, she had left when the sun was out and now it was dark.  She would not leave a lamp burning during the day.
Someone was in the cabin or at least had been recently.  No one else occupied the home, at least not now.  That wasn't the case a few short weeks ago.  The cabin. . .home was a joyous place full of laughter, the laughter of a family.  That was until "THEY" came.

Where could she run, the closest place was another mile and she knew that couldn't trust her legs to take her that far.  Bel caught her breath and listened.  She could hear the sounds of someone. . . "something" in the forest behind her.  Then she moved toward the back of the cabin.  There was an ax used for cutting wood.  She would get the ax and make her way into the cabin.  Surprising herself with her newfound strength, she ran to the spot her father had used for splitting logs.  The thought of her father brought tears to her eyes.  "This is no time to get sentimental, if I'm not careful I may join him and the rest of my family" she thought as she grabbed the ax.

Bel headed to the back door of the cabin.  "I'll slip into the mud room and surprise whoever. . .whatever is in my home."  The door creaked.  Bel lamented,  "father never got around to greasing that hinge, God I wish he had."
She stood still, the ax ready and then she saw the intruder.
****************************************************************
Bel first felt fear, then relief as the small form backed away from her position at the doorway.  She noticed a trail of slime as the little frog like creature seemed to slide straight back toward the kitchen door.

At first Bell stood transfixed by his easy movement, and astonishing head.  Unlike a human form, this being seemed covered by a damp looking covering which was shining in the light from the cabin table lamp and
overheads.  Its color at the top was a light red, about the color of one of the white face steers outside in Johnson's pasture, but as the the form became wider at the bottom, the color shifted to a a light brown, then almost a cream color near the floor. The top of this being seemed to  change shapes as it moved, and except for ear like projections that always pointed in her direction, it displayed no other openings  that would be like ears, mouth or eyes in any  earth form.  Bel knew one thing for sure,  the thing that was chasing her from her car, and which had forced her back to the cabin was not this thing at all.  For she had felt rather that seen it.  However palatable it was in its psycho presence, it could never have taken such a benign form as this small creature.

Bel watched as the blob scooted toward the kitchen door, being afraid it would go around the corner and out of sight she walked briskly toward it, not closing the distance but entering the living room as it retreated.  As the thing  reached the kitchen door, she suddenly realized to her horror that it was what had turned on the lights!  If it could turn the lights on, it could turn them off as well.  The thought barely reached her consciousness, when with a lightning like movement the small blob shot upward toward the light switch by the doorway, and the room became black.

Bel sat up in bed, the light from the full moon streamed in through the cabin window.  What a strange dream she thought to herself as soon as she was fully awake.  No more cold biscuits before going to sleep she thought.  All the stories about that crazy old coot chasing people around the country side, cold biscuits, and milk, and an overactive imagination sure make for strange bed fellows and dreams she laughed to herself.  Through the  window  she could see the horses in the corral, casting long shadows in the moonlight.  A mid summer night on the high range.  Here in the line camp a place she never thought she would be miles from anyone completely by herself.
To be Continued.......

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