Well, late but not as late as last week. I’ll take a small improvement!
(Archives are on the website, if you want to read the offerings of past weeks)
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Grove of the Ancients
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson
The chill wind stole what little warmth Tayla’s cotton pajamas provided. Great heaving shudders wracked her body but she still struggled against the tightly knotted ropes that bound her. Warm wetness made her wrists slick, but the coarse rope that bound her to the spikes driven into the ground only tightened with each struggle, each attempt to free herself. Exhausted, she stopped struggling to catch her breath again.
What the hell was going on around here? Her quiet weekend getaway at a cabin had turned into a kidnapping before dawn and being staked out like a pagan sacrifice in the woods. Maybe she’d been drugged—she’d gone to bed really early the night before, unable to keep her eyes open, and fell asleep immediately. Then she’d woken up here with a headache and mouth so dry she wanted to drink a river dry.
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