Victoria

Victoria

The year was 1936; the Canadian wilderness, even in the fading light of dusk possessed a raw, unforgiving beauty – towering pines stood like silent sentinels, their shadows stretching long and skeletal across the snow-dusted ground, a biting wind howled through the skeletal branches, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of a long, brutal winter.

In the heart of this desolation stood a dilapidated cabin, its weather logs groaning beneath years of neglect; a single, flickering lantern cast a meagre pool of light inside; barely pushing back an oppressive darkness that clung to every corner – it was here, in this isolated purgatory that Victoria found herself.

She was a study in contrast; at eighteen, her face held an almost ethereal innocence, Raven-black hair cascaded around her shoulder, framing a face of delicate angles and porcelain skin; but it was her eyes that truly captivated – silvery-blue, like glacial ice, they held a depth that belief her youthful appearance, a knowingness that whispered secrets and shadow.

Bound at the wrists and ankles; she sat on the rough-hewn wooden chair, seemingly helpless; but a glint in her eye suggested otherwise.

Her captor – Joel Adams, was a man carved from the harsh landscape itself, forty-years of etched lines of cruelty around his eyes and mouth; he was a man familiar with violence, a man who believed he could take whatever he wanted.

He stalked the cabin like a wolf, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor; he paused, a predatory glint in his eyes as he looked at Victoria, a cruel smile twisting his lips “Well, little bird” he rasped – his voice thick with a Canadian drawl “Looks like you flew into the wrong forest” he chuckled, a harsh, mirthless sound “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, things are gunna get real interesting ‘round here”

He turned his back dismissively, confident in his control; he busied himself with preparation, stoking the fire of the dilapidated stove, laying out a collection of unsettling tools of torment onto a rickety table – rusted knives, lengths of rope and other tools of torment that spoke volumes about his dark desires.

He believed he had hit the jackpot; the perfect victim delivered right into his lap; an innocent, a nobody.

He was wrong.

With subtle movements; Victoria had begun working on her restraints; this was something she had experienced in a more controlled environment on many occasions – it was a simple trick, amongst the easier things she had learnt to deal with; within moments, her wrists were free, the ropes around her ankles soon followed.

She remained seated, utterly still; a statue carved from shadows – she was watching Joel with a detached amusement as he continued with his preparation, oblivious to the danger he was in.
The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows along the walls, painting the scene with an almost theatrical drama.

He turned back to her; his eyes gleaming with anticipation, he took a step forwards – his hand now outstretched as he reached for her.

And then – it happened.

She hadn’t moved from the chair, she didn’t even shift her weight – she simply grabbed his wrist with a blur of motion; her fingers clasped onto Joel’s outstretched hand, the grip was like a vice.

His eyes widened in disbelief as she twisted; the force of her movement sent him stumbling forwards, crashing to his knee’s at her feet, he cried out in pain as she maintained her grip – the bones in his wrist protested under the immense pressure, he tried to pull away, but her hold was unyielding; impossibly strong for a girl her size.

“What?…” he gasped, his face contorted with pain and confusion

Victoria leaned forwards, her voice low, a silken whisper that cut through the air like a shard of ice “What did you think you were going to do?”

He stared at her; his mind struggling to comprehend the impossible – this was not the terrified victim he had envisioned, this was something else, something far more dangerous.

Her silvery-blue eyes locked onto his, and then he saw it – the abyss, a bottomless void of cold, calculating darkness; he saw death staring back at him “I…, I don’t….” he stammered

She tilted her head; it caused her hair to swing gently to the left shoulder – a faint smile playing on her lips; he swore he had seen this look somewhere before “I have a suggestion Joel” she released his wrist; letting him fall back onto his haunches, the pain throbbed in his arm, an incessant remainder of the pressure she had just put along his wrist

“Instead of whatever vile plan you had concocted” she continued; leaning back against her chair again “How about you run; run as fast and as far as you can”

He stared at her; he was frozen in fear.

She was the picture of perfect angelic composure as she smiled at him; but that smile, the more he looked was far more sinister – she knew that he was terrified, she was basking in it “I’m feeling generous” she told him; not once did her tone change

Her eyes seemed to have a predatory amusement to them “I’ll count down from ten to zero; then, I shall be coming”

He scrambled back; his eyes darted around the cabin – he searched for a weapon, an escape; but there was nothing, he was trapped, cornered by a creature he couldn’t comprehend.

Victoria began to count; her voice was soft, a melodic cadence that belied he deadly intent behind her words “Ten….”

Joel lurched to his feet, his legs were shaking – his mind racing, he saw the open doorway and a silver of hope.

“Nine….”

He stumbled for the door; his breath catching in his throat – the wind outside howled, a mournful dirge that seemed to echo his fear.

“Eight…”

He reached the doorway; his hands fumbling with the latch.

“Seven…”

Yanking the door; a blast of frigid air hit him in the face.

“Six…”

He bolted out into the darkness; his boots slipping on the icy ground; Victoria had now risen to her feet, she deliberately slow in her movement.

“Five…”

Joel ran; his lungs were burning – his heart pounding in his chest as he plunged himself deep into the forest, tree’s blurring past him in a dizzying rush.

“Four….”

He could hear the soft crunch of snow behind him; it sent a jolt of pure terror through his veins – he was running, how could she be keeping pace, how could she even know in the darkness were he was moving; he did not dare look back, he was terrified.

“Three…”

Branched whipped at his face; tearing at his clothes, he ignored the pain – his only thought was to escape from whatever he had captured, believed to be an easy victim.

“Two…”

He could feel her presence, a malevolent force closing in on him; the air seemed to crackle with an unnatural energy.

“One…”

He tripped; falling heavily onto the snow covered ground – he scrambled to his feet in desperation.

“Zero”

He didn’t have a chance to scream.

The silence that followed was absolute; broken only by the mournful howl of the wind, the lantern in the cabin flickered and died, plunging the interior into darkness.

Outside, the snow remained pristine; untouched by any sign of struggle – only the whispering pines knew the fate of Joel Adams, a man that thought he’d found an easy target – instead, he had found something else entirely, he had found a nightmare, a predator far more dangerous than himself and in the cold, unforgiving wilderness – the predator always wins.

Written By: Westley H.