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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
My first essay about a young women who is kidnapped and brought 'home'

Submitted: May 18, 2014

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Submitted: May 18, 2014

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Home

 

The song of the birds dominates the silence. There is a trail in front, with a sign indicating Exit. She follows the trail for a moment and hesitates as she sees another sign saying Lough Kiel Forest. The breeze echoes as it brushes off her ear. What am I doing in Kiel Forest, that's an hour away from Derek's hou..... She hesitates she hears a rustles from the dense tree line. A large figure emerges from the darkness, a figure that cannot be recognizable. As it gets closer she panics and runs. Through the meadows and bushes, not knowing north, south, east or west she just keeps running. Suddenly a blunt objects strikes her on the back of her head. Now on the grassy, mud covered ground she cannot move, she is pinned down by something. “Help, someone please, help me!” she screams. Nothing. “Hel......” A hand covers her mouth. What is happening to me. She can just make out the figure above her. A goblin like face. Who is that? Then it hits her, its a mask. Blood starts to spurt everywhere as she scrapes his face. “Help!” she manages to shout before being struck on the head again. A heavy noise can be heard in the distance, getting closer. A car? A truck? It stops just a few feet away. A green pick-up truck, old and rusted. A man with, what seems to look like a fox mask gets out. “Well what have we got ourselves here” says the man. She feels a tight squeeze for a moment. She is being tied up. A gag around her mouth. Cable ties on her legs and hands. “She a fighter” the other man mentions. “Get her in the boot” The man picks her up as if she were a toy and throws her vigorously into the back of the truck.

Driving now for over an hour the car stops. Doors slam as she waits in anticipation to be man handled. Hands grasp her each end of her body and picks her up. Were am I? What looks to be a industrial park lies before her. Nobody around, just them. The sound of a old, iron door catches her attention. The men both walk into the darkness of what seems to be a warehouse. A sudden burst of light hits her eyes, like a flash-bomb exploding and she can now see more clearly. What is in front of here, she cannot believe! Knives, rope, balaclavas, duct tape, cable ties, wire, a baseball bat, cages; not just cages, inside there are women, young and old. “Help!” silently whispers the women. “Put her in 870” one shouts and she is forced into a cage, roughly half her size. Within a moment the lights darken and the doors slam with a violent echo, bouncing off the thick, steel walls.

Meanwhile in the local police station, a couple in their mid 60's are talking to the sheriff. “Our daughter was at a party last night and never came home. She's always home at curfew, never late. Oh, what’s happened her!” cries the women. “I can assure you maim we are doing everything within our will to find your daughter. Now can you give me your daughters details and description and we will get someone on this, please” asks the sheriff. “Yeah, no problem. Her name is Cary Ann. She's blonde, skinny, about 5'9, blue eyes, em she has a tattoo on her left wrist. She's very talkative and is really friendly with people. Oh and when she left for her party she was wearing a sapphire dress and black heels. I hope this helps!” “It does maim, every little bit of information helps. Now do you have photo of Cary Ann that I can copy, please.” asks the sheriff. “Yes, here you go. I want that back!” shouts the mother as the sheriff swiftly exits the room.

“Hello...” a soft voice calls out. “Who's there. My name is Dana. What’s yours?” she asks. “Cary Ann. Where are we? What’s going to happen to me?” Cary Ann whispers. “I don’t know, I think a warehouse. Just don’t scream or you get the stick. Just do what they say.” answers the faint voice. In a moment, the lights burst on, the doors open and more men come in. About 10. “You take 870, you take 800 and we'll take 853.” informs a deep, southern voice. Suddenly Cary Ann and two others are hoisted up, out of the cages and put into the back of a van. The pungent smell of BO and stale beer fills the van. The doors slam and the van starts up. “23 Maynard Lane, The Builder will be there waiting. Don't fuck this up. And remember to call the parents as soon as you get there” says the familiar deep voice, dominating over everything else. “I wont, don’t worry. How much again? 2 million?” asks the driver. “Yeah, 2 mill. I trust you on this. Remember The Builder is relying on you.” replies the other man and the van accelerates.

What feels like hours of driving, all Cary Ann can hear is seagulls squawking and the crashing of waves. Are we beside a sea? On the coast? Where am I? The van comes to a sudden stop and the doors swing open. “Get out!” shouts the man, as he unties all the girls and points two guns in their faces. Oh no, this is it, this is where we all die. Dear God tell my parents I love them. They slowly slide out of the van, moaning and groaning, and walk towards what seem to look like big golden gates. “870, 800 and 853 are here, just like you wanted boss.” speaks the man into an intercom plastered on the d=side wall. “Okay” answers a well spoken, British man. The gates all of sudden open and the same loud voice can be heard in the distance. “Welcome girls, welcome home!”


© Copyright 2018 Ayrton McGrane. All rights reserved.

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