As I read what I had written, I cried out to the heavens to help me make sense of it. An angel took pity on my plight and descended unto me. This Angel spoke these wise words:
“Fear not the ‘Volunteer Editor Program. They’re waiting to help!”
With her patience and guidance, we worked together to make it a better story. When it was finished, we read it, and it was GOOD.
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Thickfinger
I knew that I had to have her the moment I spotted her across the open sun dappled meadow. The noise of the tires from my car crunching over the gravel had me praying silently that it would not send her fleeing. I pulled the car to the roadside, closed the door quietly and crouched behind the fender. Without drawing her attention, my mind assessed the possibilities of getting closer. The complete lack of cover left a stealthy approach out of the question. There was nothing left for me to do but rely on sheer speed to close the distance between us. When I arrived at the point where I had seen her sleek figure frolicking among the wildflowers, she had vanished. The only proof that she ever existed anywhere outside of my mind was a small wicker basket and a rumpled blanket.
Driven by something that could not be readily identified, only a trail of footprints were all that I had to guide me in my search for her. Could it be the biological imperative? That didn’t feel right to me as I considered it further and followed the meager evidence of her passing. Unable to shake the feeling that I somehow knew who she was; it was unclear to me as to whether we had ever even met.
Passing into the forest, I scanned for any sign of movement but found nothing amiss. My senses focused on the narrow path before me. Not wanting to frighten my quarry and drive her ever deeper into the wooded hills, I proceeded as quietly as possible. Coming to a small stream, the bits of earth and scraped moss marking each stone made me certain that this was where she had crossed. Peering further along the trail on the far bank, I noticed something out of place where the terrain began a gentle ascent.
Leaping across the churning water and landing short, my now soaked, freezing feet were of no concern to me. All that mattered was the chase! My steps were louder than I would have liked, thudding across the bare ground to what I had seen from the stream’s now distant edge. Hopelessly entangled in a thorn bush were the remnants of her tattered black dress.
I snatched it from the greedy limbs of the branches, the fabric slick and warm against my rough fingers. It was possible to inhale her perfume still clinging to it as I buried my nose into its folds. The complex fragrance of sweat and musk further fueled my desire to gain the upper hand and find my nimble wood nymph.
Turning to follow what had seemed like a flash of movement near the crest of the hill, I cast the now useless garment aside. Was that a shapely thigh in a shimmering black stocking or was my imagination playing a trick on me? Uncertain, I moved on carefully and watched for the slightest sign of her.
It was easy to see far into the distance where the trail split in two from the apex of the small hill. My frequent forays into this part of the woods on fall afternoons would now serve me well because I knew as to where each path led. To the right, the trail became a marshy quagmire where it passed too near the lakeshore. The left side curled lazily along the hillside before winding through rocky bluffs that enveloped the still waters from above. I moved stealthily, examining them both for any telltale signs of disturbance.
