From the Smoke Club to the Ridge, the Smoke Screen Unveils | 29 June, 2024 @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2417 | Prompt: You disappoint me (with 3 other prompts)

May steamrolled into June as dog days of summer caught everyone in the city off guard. The early arrival of the intense murky heat was blamed for the humidity. To alleviate the sweating, Friday afternoon I retreated to my lake cabin on the outskirts of town behind a small, dense section of the forest near the ridge. Citing a working weekend, I declined my fiance's invitation to join me.

I couldn't afford the distraction.

After waking the next morning, I opted for a light breakfast, dressed for the probability of showers. then headed out on an early trek. Peaking through the clouds, the sun begged for an outlet. It wasn't obliged as rolling clouds laughed on their way to meet more counterparts. Together, they'd make hiking the short trail a slippery slope.

The ridge served not only to provide a breathtaking view of the city, but also to give me a chance to clear my mind for the latest missing persons case.

I parked my car in a small clearing and grabbed my backpack filled with case files notes. Short steps uphill allowed me to save energy for the task ahead.

I found a tiny, flat portion of the ridge and settled in. About thirty minutes later, I was engrossed in the case when I noticed a few drops of rain left stains on my shirt.

A picture perfect scene for a painting session. I surveyed the small mountainous area that captured the spectacular formations. The haze covered the low-lying canopy surrounded by tall pines jutting out at intervals. From the top, the caves disappeared into the clouds.

Though you couldn't see it clearly at that distance, you could feel the indistinct enticement of the caverns.

A popular exploration spot, the landscape was marred in folklore. Nearby residents weary of the mounting disappearances in the past five years, designated the area as a focal point, without proof. If you inquire of anyone, they'll wave you off advising that they haven't set foot in the caverns for many years and leave you with a warning of their own. Tourists unaware or unfamiliar with the lore flocked to the mysterious caves filled with bats and other wonders.

I loved the forest. But my hatred for the tiny vermin kept me away from the caverns. Dreams the past few years pervaded my deep sleep with a darkness emanating from there. Despite the troublesome deep and pungent aroma that sometimes mixed with the forest bed, then rose up and overtook the ridge, I continued to visit.

However, not all weekends were identical on the ridge.

The east side held numerous surprises. Some were downright delightful. But that weekend was not one of them. In fact, once I reached the peak, I didn't believe that I would live to see tomorrow as I stood there frozen, gazing toward the ground.

I'd been studying the case notes on the young girl who had disappeared three weeks earlier. A prickly sensation crawled up my spine as I read about the ax left next to the crime scene.

It was the shuffling of feet and a voice I'd heard whispering in my dreams. The pungent odor from the heavy overcoat waffling toward me. I frowned at the knowing smell from the Smoke Club six months ago. I'd only breathed it once, but the odor lingered in my senses for days after.

At the edge of the cliff, I couldn't tread backward, neither did I dare descend to his level.

For one terrifying moment, I stared at this older man's severely disfigured face. Not the younger man my fiance, Jordan, had introduced me to at the Smoke Club. Perspiration mixed with dirt now beaded his brow. Probably from the climb upward.

Something wasn't right. I suddenly remembered his face from my dream. His veins bulged, then popped draining blood from his eyes. He stopped beneath me looking up.

"You disappoint me Tracie," he drawled. "I'd have bet you'd guessed by now. Sadly, you didn't know me at all."

I racked my brain in an attempt to decipher his words. I didn't know this man but for a brief period of introduction. Apparently, he knew and desired to harm me, but I couldn't connect any other time meeting during my adulthood.

Why would I leave my purse and phone in the car? Little good would either do at the moment, though, as any movement on my part would mean certain death. Thinking quickly, I stalled by rambling, most of which were words taken from interviews and authorities on the subject.

With a fake show of strength and resolve, I stood as tall as I could, my arms crossed in defiance.

"I know you're a cruel old man with savage appetites," was the best I could think of from the files of the women who'd disappeared without a trace.

He said nothing, only stared wide eyed.

The air above and below was thick with dread. I was alone with this approximately six foot, five man with a muscular build outfitted in woodsman's clothing. There was no one I could determine within two miles visiting the forest as I didn't hear any campers. Even the birds and animals scurried away to safety.

Possessed by the knowledge that the details of the unsolved ax murder cases matched the weapon that man was wielding, I watched in numbed horror as perspiration beaded the man's brow.

With an ax in his left hand, he walked unevenly toward me. A legitimate disability or mask for his footprints perhaps.

Only after he stopped to survey his surroundings to ensure he'd have no witnesses did a spasm of fear cross my face. My eyes traveled from the edge of his gloved hand to the top of the ax. My attempt to keep my panicked thoughts in check failed as I realized the newest disappearance case involved an ax at the bloody scene. No body, just a calling card.

But how did he find me? I'm only an investigator? My mind traveled back to a fleeting moment at the Smoke Club.

And now I stood facing this evil monster and his desired life-ending weapon.

Feeling vulnerable, my eyes darted around the woods beyond the trail. As my knees weakened, I cried silently, Jordan, forgive me for denying your protection this weekend.

Blood pounded in my ears as adrenaline burst into my veins.

At that moment of despair, I understood and almost laughed at the late-night murder mystery movies I loved to devour along with my favorite salty-buttered popcorn. The hour has come, the villain proclaimed just before grabbing the victims.

I reached down and grabbed my backpack, then hurled it at the man with all the strength I could summon. With one giant leap, I jumped from the cliff to the ground, landing hard on my ankle beyond his reach.

I managed to lift myself up. Through the pain, I ran as swiftly as I could through the sparse trees.

By the time I reached the clearing where I'd left my car, my heart pounded so hard that I didn't notice Jordan drive up. All I heard was my name being shouted. I jerked my head in that direction.

I didn't know and didn't care what prompted Jordan to come to the cabin that weekend. All I knew was that instantly I ceased fumbling with the keys and ran toward him. falling into his arms the exact moment I saw from the corner of my eye the man with the ax emerged from the brush.

"Hurry, let's get out of here!" I shouted. We both jumped into the car and sped away.

"What the hell is going on, Tracie!?" Jordan queried with a stunned look on his face.

"That man at the Smoke Club," I stammered. "He's trying to kill me!"

"That's crazy. Explain please," Jordan shouted as he drove as fast as was allowed to ensure the man wasn't following.

"Let's call the authorities first. He's connected with the disappearances near the caves."

Jordan was speechless. He listened to the bizarre incident as he drove us away from the beautiful ridge and toward my cabin.

"No, not the cabin! I don't know how he found me, so it not a safe place, I feel," with panic in my voice.

"OK, you're right. Let's go straight away and report what happened," Jordan agreed.

Jordan didn't question my version of the encounter. As an investigative reporter, he knew somehow in that short time frame, I'd made a connection from the Smoke Club to the ridge, unveiling the smoke screen a possible murderer was hiding behind.

The only question remained to be investigated was how that man knew of my whereabouts that weekend.

[to be continued]

For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the Hive account@daily.prompt's publishing of four prompts:

28 June 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2417: You disappoint me

29 June 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2418: despair

24 June 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2413: the hour has come

20 June 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2409: cruel old man