writing

The Island

Abigail took a deep hard breath, as if her life depended on it.

It did.

The shotgun blast to her shoulder had knocked her to the ground, her head hitting a rock and rendering her unconscious.

Fucker. 

Blinking the crust made up of dirt and blood splatter out of her eyes, Abigail wondered how long she’d been out. The sun was barely shining and a cool breeze caressed her body. Or was it death, running his fingers over his soon to be new toy, excitement pulsing through him as it would a child?

She couldn’t hear a sound apart from the trees waving softly in the wind and the movement of small daytime animals.

Animals. 

There was no doubt her dick of a boyfriend left her out in the middle of the forest for dead. Eaten up, that’s what he’d tell people. They got separated, she got lost and he’d tried but failed to find her. Before it got dark, he left and gone for help. By the time they’d return to continue the search, she’d be bits and pieces.

Pain radiated as she forced her body to move, push up into a seated position and realized the blast had found its way through her shoulder but also grazed across her side.

Was it one shot or two?  She couldn’t be sure and with the sun going down by the minute, she didn’t have time to wonder.

A growl sounds in the distance and in an instant, her grogginess is gone.

Adrenaline kicking in, Abigail managed to stand. A vacation away, time alone, couples therapy; those were the words Drake had used when they booked their trip. A full weekend on a private island; one bungalow, no neighbors and a small boat for transportation back to reality.

As she stumbled through the trees and moist ground, she was sure that boat would be gone.

Alone, in pain and bleeding; what a vacation. She wondered why he had bothered at all. A shotgun could have killed her just as quickly in their shared apartment as an island. Probably even killed her correctly. But his chickenshit nerves had only managed to shoot as she turned to run, messing up his aim enough to allow her to survive.

Seeing a clearing, Abigail continued pushing her body along. Blood continued to pour down her arm as she did. The boat was gone, as suspected. In its place was a view of the sky, dark and brooding.

A storm, great.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a glimmer. Abigail’s eyes panned over to see an area opposite their bungalow set up in the sand.

Falling twice on her way over, she thought she’d bleed out and die before her curiosity got its full.

She didn’t and she managed on unstable feet to see the shine had come from a precious gem lying on the sand. Dozens of them, placed in a circle with what looked like a bouquet of black roses at its center.

Déjà Vu hit her like the stone to her head, making her dizzy. She’d seen this display before.

Where?

A roll of thunder echoed through the sky, followed by a clap of thunder. Her body throbbed as the wind picked up. The sky was faint; a grey color now but not yet black.

Abigail looked back down at the scene before her. Drake must have set it up before he left because she would have remembered seeing it, but she couldn’t remember what it was for.

A few drops began to fall and she welcomed the cooling sensation on her enflamed body. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, trying to hydrate herself but what should have tasted refreshing only tasted like copper.

Eyes snapping open, Abigail looked down at her once blood blotched yellow shirt to see it completely drenched in red. She used her good arm to lift her hand to her face, only to find blood there, flowing down. She looked down to the bloodstained sand and let out a curdling scream she didn’t know she could muster.

The sky was raining blood, pure and human blood.

That’s when she remembered, she’d seen the circle, those gems and that bouquet before on her boyfriend’s computer weeks before, beside it a notebook and clear in her mind’s eye she remembered the phrase “human sacrifice.”

Before she could form another thought a growl released behind her, one no human or animal could muster making every hair on her body stand to attention.

Copyright © 2019 by Elly. V All rights reserved. This story and any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

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