Author's Showcase

Chapter One - My Safe Place 

By N S Wright

It’s so very dark tonight, not a star to be found anywhere, and that rain, lashing against the windshield of the car like the beat of a thousand tiny drums. “Great, just bloody perfect”, Olivia Fielding says aloud, although only to herself. Cold and wet is all she needs tonight, but at least the rain looks like it might ease a little now.

She eases the car up the steep, narrow country lane, heading towards safety. Well, safety for the next few hours at least. But then what? 

It’s the very same question she asks herself every time she makes this journey, and she never seems to have the answer. 

High dry stone walls line either side of the lane, with grass and weeds growing through any gaps they can find purchase. Occasional brambles and low branches scratching the sides of the car like sharp nails, screeching, and making her wince at the sound, but she prefers this little shortcut, tight as it may be. 

At this time of night the country roads are almost always empty, with farm vehicles being stowed away for the night and people from the nearby villages tucked up in bed or busy watching tv. 

It’s steep here though, very steep in places, so it makes it hard going when it’s covered in snow and ice, but for tonight at least she just has to worry about the rain.

Almost there now, and she can see the clearing in the trees coming up ahead. The beam of her headlights moving around the corner, bouncing off the dry stone walls, stone by stone. A few more bends in the road and she can make out the entrance to the car park ahead, just a small break in the walls to show its presence there. Well, it’s more of a clearing really, as it’s only big enough to fit 2 or maybe 3 small cars at a push, but plenty of room for her black VW Scirocco. 

She slows the car as she turns into the narrow gap in the walls, and eases up onto the gravel and mud and sees that thankfully there are no other cars here.

She chooses this place because of the isolation and knows it would certainly be rare to see another person, being in the middle of the night, and hikers only venturing out here during the daylight hours, and solitude is what she so desperately needs right now.

She breathes a sigh of relief and eases the car to a stop, lifts the handbrake, turns off the ignition and presses the button for her window, to open it just a crack, then turns off the lights. She breathes in deep, in and out, in and out, to try and calm herself a little. The deep breathing causes her to wince with pain and she cries out and crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself for comfort. Her chest, sides and stomach radiating with pain. A dull, throbbing ache, stretching across her breasts, stomach and sides. Tender to the gentlest touch, and she knows that there will soon be bruising. Her heart is pounding in her chest, like the beat of a drum, and she can hear the vibrations ringing in her ears. 

She brings a hand up to her face and feels the wetness there, from the tears that she almost forgets she is shedding, as common as they are now. She wipes her face with both hands and reaches across into her rucksack, which is on the passenger seat, for her tissues, but winces and cries out with pain from the effort.

 After blowing her nose and using another tissue on her tears, she gently reaches back into the rucksack for her cigarettes and lighter. The rucksack is her emergency grab bag, full of everything she thinks she may need for these such nights, cereal bars, drinks, waterproofs, first aid kit, and yes, plenty of cigarettes. 

At times, Olivia thinks that she should try her hardest to quit, especially with the constant nagging of people, mainly her husband and family, for her to do so, but then there are nights like this, so she knows that it’s just not going to happen, not unless she can find a way to put an end to all of this?

The wind is biting and piercing right through to the bone, as she feels the gusts against her skin from the slightly open window and shudders from the cold.

She takes a cigarette out of the pack and places it between her lips, then grabs the lighter, flicking it on, keeping her hands close around it, to shield it from the wind. She  takes a long hard drag on the cigarette, breathing in deep and exhaling slowly, blowing smoke out of the car window. She feels the kick of the nicotine at the back of her throat and the rush to her brain, and she starts to feel a little more relaxed. 

She looks down at her hands and can see that she is still shaking badly, but she knows that’s not likely to change anytime soon.

The moon is trying its hardest to break through all this cloud and she can now catch the occasional glimpse of a star in the dark grey sky, as she sits in the car, staring out of the windshield at the car park and the woods beyond.

She listens to the sound of the rain tapping against the windows, like a thousand tiny drumsticks playing a tune all of their own, and finds some comfort from the rhythm.

Darkness is all around her. She is too far from the nearest town to see any signs of life and the only houses along this lane are the occasional farmhouse, which have long winding tracks off the lane to the homes nestled within, or cottages from the villages below, which are too low down to be seen from up here, so she feels safe and alone in this place, hidden by walls, trees and hills. She can just make out the tops of the trees through the gaps in the dark clouds if she tries hard enough. 

She breathes in the smell of damp earth from the downpour, droplets of rain covering branches and foliage alike, and anything else it can cling on to. The rain at least is easing now, although she is finding comfort sitting here listening to it tonight.

She is not afraid of the dark, not at all. She spent her childhood walking in the woods around the house she grew up in with her parents. She was about 7yrs old when she first ventured out alone in the middle of the night. Her parents had been away for the weekend and her grandparents had been fast asleep in bed. She was not at all scared, and had wanted to do it for as long as she could remember. She loved the outdoors, woods and forests particularly, and all the wildlife nestled within. Her father, Benjamin, had a great love for the outdoors too and would take her walking most weekends when he had the time. Whereas her Mother, Erica, rarely came with them, much preferring elegant stores to look around in instead. So she was much closer to her Father because of this.

She loved the sounds the woods would make at night, and would love all the animals she could see, especially the badgers, if she was patient and quiet enough.

The rain has eased off now at last, and she desperately needs to get outside, as she feels the walls of the car closing in around her, like they’re squeezing her chest, sucking the air out from her lungs, until she can’t breathe. She ties up her loose, long black hair, takes her hat and headlamp from her rucksack, being careful of the pain, and places them on. She then grabs her thick waterproof hiking coat from the passenger seat and opens the car door. Stepping outside and taking a deep breath, she slowly, and very gently, puts on her coat, over her thick jumper and jeans, zipping it up tight around her and puts on her gloves from her coat pockets. After checking inside the car for anything she may need, she grabs her rucksack, putting it over her shoulder and wincing at the effort, then locks the car, putting the key in her jacket pocket. 

She knows which path she will take, as it’s always the same one, and she knows this trail so well she could walk it by moonlight alone, but she turns on her headlamp, just in case.

She sets off down the trail, hoping the rain stays away for a while. It’s incredibly dark amongst all these trees, a mix of oak, horse chestnut, firs and birch, but her headlamp provides more than enough light and she carries spare batteries in her rucksack, just in case. Twigs and branches crack and break under her walking boots, and there are plenty of puddles along the path here. It’s quite a narrow path, maybe 1 metre wide at most, with tall trees lining either side and brambles, wild garlic and ferns, filling up the rest of the space.

The woods are her special place, her safe place, a place where she doesn’t have to be afraid, where she can breathe again, well, for a little while at least. 

This is a place to think, or try to anyway, until she has to decide whether to move on or to go back…