Monster XVI

Monster XVI
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/25/14

I’ve never hurt someone physically. I’ve physically hurt. I’ve definitely emotionally hurt, and maybe even reciprocated. But intentionally inflicting pain on someone was not my thing. Somehow it was now my thing. Footsteps made it my thing.

To Footsteps, this was like making a cake. Preheat oven. Prepare table. Get mixing bowls, measuring cups and spoons, and ingredients. Gag, check. Restraints, check. Victim, check. In one bowl mix half the ingredients, in the other, mix the remainder. Situate victim just right on table, gag, and apply restraints. Blend ingredients in large bowl and stir for 3-5 minutes. Remove blind fold and tape open victim’s eyes. Allow mix to sit 2-3 minutes. Apply 3-5 bleach drops to each eye and allow to sit for 2-3 minutes. Pour mix into pan and place in oven for 35-40 minutes or until cake is done. Apply scalpel slices to victim’s naked body and individually duct tape 35-40 rats over slices. When cake is done, allow to cool before eating. When the rats are done, your victim should be dead.

I prayed for him to die of fear. He didn’t. I prayed for him to stop watching me. His eyes were taped open. I prayed to go deaf. I heard each muffled scream through his gag. I prayed for the torture to end, the rats ate him alive. I prayed for my own death. I realized, God had put my prayers on mute.

I stood outside and Footsteps met me with a huge duffel bag. We were in an unlit parking lot of some abandoned building. He weighted the duffel bag evenly over my shoulders. I realized I was carrying our cake, the leftovers anyways. The bag outweighed me, but I managed to keep up with Footsteps as I followed him through the dark. I heaved the bag into the trunk of the car on top of some shovels.

I began to cry in the back of the car. Footsteps started the car and chuckled at my tears. He turned the car around and I lunged forward, grabbed his forehead back, and sliced across his neck with the scalpel I had hidden up my sleeve. The car accelerated and slammed into the building.

When I opened my eyes, I was in complete darkness. I wasn’t in restraints, but my body was constricted. I tasted dirt and felt wood all around me. I heard a familiar squeaking and then felt a sharp pain on my foot. Place in coffin and bury with rats for 3-4 days or until girl dies. I was not going to be cake leftovers.

Copyright ©2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Taken X

Taken X
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/24/14

Jessie.  I had my Jessie back.  Mark wasn’t cheating on me, he was trying to get our Jessie back.  Whoever was in the house must have tried to hurt him and that’s why he ran.  When I ran to the back of the little cottage, I saw the door slowly creep open. I thought I had been found, but as my eyes focused, it was my baby.  My little Jessie stumbled out the back and into my arms. We ducked low as I heard the person inside frantically hunt for her.

The engine of the van turned over and the headlights were like instant sun in this shadowless wilderness.  I waited for it to disappear before I turned my tiny flashlight back on.  I didn’t know how far the batteries would take us, but I needed to get to a place where I could get some bars on my cell phone.  I had to call Mark and tell him I had Jessie.  He would probably be angry, because that would reveal I followed him.  His arrogance would hate the fact that I rescued her and he left running.

I stumbled through the woods and thought I heard the sounds of water.  It was faint, but unmistakable.  Jessie was barely walking so I lifted her into my arms.  I wanted to get us as far away from that house as I could.  The sound of the water was more audible and that was going to be my guide.  My flashlight shut off.

Behind us I heard cars, but the water was closer.  What was that? A crash? I wasn’t sure.  I kept moving towards the water.  Jessie was too heavy to continue to carry.  I found a tree and sat against the base of its trunk.  It wasn’t until I stopped moving that I realized how cold it was.  My little Jessie was cold too.

As I sat, I formulated a plan to go back to the house.  Whoever left, would never come back, knowing Mark found his hiding place.  We could at least spend the night and then in the morning, I would at least be able to travel in daylight. But most of all, we wouldn’t freeze in these woods.

The outline of the house came into my view.  Just beyond the house there appeared to be headlights approaching.  I was wrong.  The person was returning to get my Jessie.  I ran and hid us deep into the trees and stopped moving when I heard the engine shut off.  The headlights remained on and I heard deep voices.  I wasn’t sure how many voices, but there was definitely more than one.  And I knew one of them.  It was Mark.  He must have run to go get help.  He had come back to bring our Jessie home.

I ran out of the woods the best I could holding Jessie tight to my chest.  I screamed his name as I came into the clearing behind the tiny house.  We were safe.  Mark would take me and my baby home.  A figure stood in the headlights and I ran towards it.  They were blinding so I wasn’t sure who I was running towards, until he opened his arms for us.  I ran into my husband’s arms.  We were safe.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Filed under children, daughters, fear, fiction, kidnapping, Suspense, Taken

In My Head VII

In My Head VII
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/23/14

I didn’t know how long it had been since I Daddy, but I was still really mad at him. I think he was really mad at me too. He had only called once or maybe it was twice, but I didn’t want to talk to him ever again. Mommy wanted me to talk to him when he called, but she didn’t make me when I said no. I just wanted my mommy. Sometimes I still heard her cry in the shower. When she got out she told me she got soap in her eyes. Now I was mad that Daddy made Mommy cry.

Next week was Christmas. Daddy always took us to see Santa so we could tell him everything we wanted. Today Mommy took us. I didn’t know what I wanted. I used to always want Mommy and Daddy back together, but I didn’t want that anymore. Daddy just made us sad.

I listened to my sister tell Santa what she wanted. She went on and on about toys and everything she had seen on TV, but I watched Mommy. She didn’t look happy. She was never happy anymore. When Santa asked me what I wanted, I told him, I wanted my mommy to be happy. It didn’t have to be my daddy anymore, it just had to make her happy. He asked me what I thought would make my mommy happy, and I didn’t know. I didn’t know what would make Mommy happy.

Maybe Mommy wanted new boots. She always complained because the ones she had now had a hole in them. Every time she wore them, her feet got wet and cold. Or maybe Santa could pay all the bills for her. She always said she didn’t have enough money. I know she needed a new winter coat. She had been wearing the same one for forever and the inside had a big hole and some of the white stuffing stuff was falling out. Or maybe Santa would give me some money to take her to dinner or the movies. Whenever we went out to dinner, she would always say she wasn’t hungry and let me and my sister get whatever we wanted. I knew it was because we didn’t have enough money. I knew she was hungry.

By the time I finally said something, I just said, “Santa, tell God to get something for my mommy that will make her happy forever. That’s what I want for Christmas, my mommy to be happy forever.”

Santa said okay.

©Copyright 2014 – Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XV

Monster XV
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/6/14

This was like a stakeout, except we weren’t cops. Instead, we were more like stalkers. Professional stalkers. While they stalked the gentleman in the house, I stalked the neighborhood. They kept me blindfolded for the car ride, but we always ended up on the same street. Unfortunately, it was always nighttime, so I couldn’t see the street sign at the corner.

We arrived at 10 pm every night. Within minutes, a car would pull into the driveway. Three weeks and the same thing. A gentleman would get out and go inside. The lights would stay on for about two hours. They would appear again at about 6 am. By 8 am, the driver’s seat was occupied again. With daylight, my blindfold returned. Removal of it always put us in the same parking lot behind the same building. Unfortunately, it was non-distinct and offered no details of my location.

Tonight was different. When they took my blindfold off, it was dusk. The sun hadn’t completely gone down. We were at the same house, but sitting in a different location. There was no way to look at the street sign without being obvious. The Doctor and Footsteps sat in the front, while I sat in the back of the van with my hands zip-tied behind my back. We were never in the same vehicle while occupying the on-street parking road.

But like I said, tonight was different. Footsteps turned around and cut my zip-tie off. It didn’t matter how many times we had come here, I didn’t know where I was. They did. Running to nowhere would be stupid. Even if I could shake them, GPS would tattle on me.

Again, tonight was different. After being cut free, I was no longer a stalker. I was now a home intruder. I had no watch, but I assumed it was a little after 10 pm. I heard the door open. Keys were thrown on a counter or something. I heard a refrigerator door open then close. The television went on and then a ringtone was quickly stifled. There was no answer, so I assumed he ignored the call.

Now I waited for him to go to sleep. With my sliver view from the closet, there was only a glow from the television. It could have been an hour, or maybe two. I never thought stalking could be so tiring. My right leg began to cramp. Moving was not an option. My tight environment did not allow for it. Still there was the television, but now heavy breathing.

If hope worked, he was asleep. If hope worked, I wouldn’t have to kill him. If hope worked, tonight I could escape. If hope worked, they would never find me again. If hope worked, Hope would live too. I crept out of the stalking cover and entered the hallway. There was no hope. Footsteps was in the hallway too.
© Copyright 2014 – Mia L. Hazlett

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Taken IX

Taken IX
By: Mia L. Hazlett
8/28/14

What was that?  I heard a noise outside.  I opened the door expecting to see Mark, but I only heard a car in the distance.  There was a slight glimmer of the headlights through the trees, but the sound I heard before was closer.  Now I could only hear the barking of coyotes blended with the crickets and various evening critters.  There it was again.  Someone was still here watching us.

“Hello,” I shouted into the darkness.  “Hello,” I yelled louder.

I went back into the house and The Package was gone.  After hunting through the house, only 500 square feet, so not that much to cover.  She was nowhere.  I know I heard cars, but who stayed behind? Who was watching me? Who had taken The Package again? At this point it didn’t matter. Answers weren’t what I needed.  I needed to leave the country.  Now.

I retrieved my passport and small stash of bills.  Although I thought I would be adding 50 grand to this, my thoughts were not my current reality.  Getting to Canada was the only way out of this mess .  In three days, I would be a different person, in a different country, living a different life.

I pulled my van onto the road.  I passed the small gated path, which went to the small creek behind my cabin.  Before I could get around the bend near the cliff, I looked into the midnight trees.  There was a jumping light that hopped and then disappeared.  A flashlight? None of my business.  I needed to get out of the country.

My eyes could not adjust to the instant light.  They were in front of me and behind me.  I was no longer driving my car, but overcorrecting my swerve and slamming on my brakes.  I don’t know if the shattering glass came before or as my head whipped back.

I woke to pain.  Mark stood over me.  He held my passport and all my cash.  He shook his head side to side.  I tried to get up, but Mark punched me back down.  I was going to die.  Mark was going to kill me.  These were my last moments.  Oddly, I had always thought of death as a nameless end.  Never did it have a name.  I saw Mark load his gun as he stood on my neck.  As he aimed his gun at my head, death had a name and its name was Mark.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Taken VIII

Taken VIII
Mia L. Hazlett
8/23/2014

There were woods everywhere.  Woods and no street lights. Dark and only my headlights.  Trying to follow my husband was impossible.  He pulled onto a slight gated dirtway.  It wasn’t really a trail, nor a driveway or street.  He parked and opened the gate.  His taillights stopped shortly after he entered.  He relocked the gate, but did not get back into his car.  A small spot of light wavered in front of him from his flashlight.

I parked my car and stepped out.  Crickets. Owls. Rustling leaves.  A strange barking in the distance. The cacophony of the night hid my clumsy steps, as I tried to following my husband’s spot of light.  I stumbled through the branches and hid behind a tree when I saw headlights coming through the trees.  The lights scanned over a small cottage before the engine cut.

I didn’t see my husband any longer.  The tree continued to give me cover. I’m not sure if I needed the tree, the pitch black did its own job. My eyes adjusted to the frame of a small cottage, but not much else.  I heard a slight creak.  It sounded like a door opening.

Footsteps. I heard running in the woods in front of me.  I found another tree and hid behind it.  The small spot of light returned and jumped up and down.  It must have been my husband.  But what was in that house?  What would make my husband run? My husband ran from nothing.

Faintly I heard the sound of two vehicle engines starting.  Had he found my car?  Before I could turn and run for my car, I saw a speck of light in the cottage.  There was someone in the house.  I ran towards the light and fell.  In my home, this would have been a mere thump.  In this desolate place, it was a clap of thunder.  The light quickly went out.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XIV

Monster XIV
By: Mia L. Hazlett
8/19/14

They only allowed me to explore the top floor of my prison. I really didn’t know where I was.  There were no windows. It had the layout of a small hotel, except everything was white.  I knew I was upstairs because of the small stairwell at the end of the bleached hallway.  No stairs went up, but there were at least three, maybe four flights, which went down.

I didn’t explore the hallways as a leisurely stroll.  Over the past, I’ll guess and say two weeks, I carried an extremely large heavy duffel bag on my shoulders.  Every two days they added more weights.  They started me heavy, and I could safely say it now exceeded my own weight.

I came into the hallway the next morning for my routine weight walk.  The difference this time, the bag was alive.  The noise was muffled, but my bag now hopped and moved across the floor.  Maniacal ordered me to pick it up and begin my routine.  I obeyed. Whatever it was calmed as I picked it up.  Two steps in- it went frantic.  I was ordered not only not to drop it, but to also run.  Again, I obeyed- until I dropped it.

It only took seconds to pick it up again, but now it was wild. My routine consisted of down the hall and back twenty times.  I was up to thirty-five right now, and sweat stung my eyes.  My momentum was gone and my bag had no sign of life.  At fifty he let me stop. I wanted to drop the bag, but I remembered it was once alive.

Footsteps came and opened the bag.  The pit bull took small breathes.  It was a dog, but when I looked in its eyes, I recognized that fear.  I had seen that fear in Hope’s eyes.  They taped around his muzzle and he was probably close to suffocating.  Footsteps walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door to the small stairwell. Maniacal cut the tape off his muzzle as a sat on the floor in front of them. Exhaustion possessed every cell of my body.

I was ordered to go to Footsteps.  Still out of breath and feet from the stairwell, I heard Maniacal yell, “Attack”, and turned to see the pit bull running at me.  I don’t know how I made it down the first flight of stairs, but as I reached the third, pit bull was closing the gap.  There were two more flights coming at me fast as skipped stairs and still maintained my speed and balance.   I heard a yelp as he lost his balance and fell down the flight directly behind me.

Fear and adrenaline battled inside me for the next two seconds as I ran out of stairs and slammed into the cement wall.  Before I could recover, there was a loud blast and a final yelp. Footsteps appeared with a gun and ordered us back upstairs. I carried the dog up five flights of stairs and collapsed on my bed.

Before I fell asleep, Maniacal spoke into his phone while looking at me, “She’s ready.”

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