This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “the Bridge” Down in the Dirt (v140) (the November/December 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Edible Red the Down in the Dirt July-Dec. 2016 collection book		get the 318 page July-Dec. 2016 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Hapless Hope

Erin Otten

    She’d been down there for so long that she’d lost track of the days, unsure of what season it was, what year it was, what time of day. With her knees pulled up to her chin, holding tightly to her legs as she shivered against the cold cement floor, she imagined what it would be like to escape. Would the sun be shining brightly, wrapping her pale, bruised body in a warm blanket of humidity and the sweet smell of summer? Or would she step out into a moonless night, with ice and snow falling from the sky, surrounding her in heaps of biting frigidity?
    The sound of heavy footsteps pounding above her made her skin crawl and she squeezed her eyes closed. Creaking door hinges, followed by feet descending the stairs, quickened the beating of her heart. Her stomach turned with worry and fear, tears bubbling behind her eyes as she wondered if she would be able to get away this time, and what he might do if she didn’t. She reached up to touch the long scar across her cheek, her bent and broken fingers wrapped in stained gauze.
    A faint streak of light appeared when he opened the door and she squinted against the brightness at that figure looming before her. In the unfamiliar light, she glanced at the filth around her: the rusty tools hanging from the walls, the mold crawling up from the corners, the grimy copper stains on the muddy floor. She’d gotten used to the rancid smell a long time ago, her nostrils constantly burning, eyes always watery and sore. The man, just a dark shadow against the harsh brightness, stood staring at her as he rested a hand on the gun she knew was tucked into the waist of his pants.
    He grabbed her suddenly, pulling her to her feet. With the grace of a newborn baby deer, she stood with aching bones and throbbing joints, almost too weak to stay upright. The man dragged her out into the strange light and pushed her toward the stairs.
    Though she was skeptical of her chances of surviving, she knew that it was her only shot at getting out. Given that she hadn’t tried to escape in months, the man was unsuspecting, letting his guard down for a split second. Her deep longing for freedom forced her hand as she they reached the top of the stairs and she threw her weight against him, sending his body crashing down the steps, and she ran.
    The girl’s wobbly legs carried her clumsily toward the door and outside, where she was greeted by a torrential downpour of rain. For a moment, she reveled in the smell of it as the cold drops of water washed the dirt and grime from her face, the frantic wind whipping through her matted hair. A clap of thunder crackled through the sky and she ran as fast as those bony, malnourished legs would carry her, down the long, winding driveway into the street.
    Down the road, she saw a small black pickup truck coming toward her and she began to cry. Salvation. Freedom. She ran into the street, waving her arms wildly in the air to signal for the truck to stop. When it began to slow down, she fell to her knees, crying out thank you.
    An elderly man parked the truck and climbed out, coming toward her with an umbrella. He helped her into the passenger seat and offered her a thick fleece jacket to cover her shivering body before starting off down the street. She thanked him, leaned her head against the window, exhausted, and closed her eyes. She listened to the rain beating against the windows as the man drove. Gusts of strong wind caused the truck to sway and the rain to swirl wildly as it whistled. The trees were like rubber, springing back and forth, the branches whirling in circles.
    Suddenly, the truck jerked and bounced, and the girl opened her eyes. The old man was trying to control the wheel, stomping on the brake pedal to no avail, as they barreled toward the sweeping, rain soaked curve ahead. Before either of them had the chance to scream, the truck turned sharply to the left and began to roll, over and over, until it barreled into the trunk of a thick oak tree.
    All was silent, save for the rain pummeling against the destroyed body of the truck. Inside the vehicle, blood flowed from the old man’s cracked skull. The girl stared, blinking through a fog of rainwater that gushed through the shattered window and onto her face. She unclipped the seatbelt and slithered across shards of glass and twisted metal, digging her fingers into the mud to pull herself out of the wreckage.
    She gazed up at the gray sky, raindrops falling hard against her face. Not today, she thought. I’m not going to die today.

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