Struck

                                                          Struck

                    Mandy Gold parks her car in a clearing beside the old Londonderry Turnpike, in
  in Auburn New Hampshire. She breathes in the cool morning air as the sun rises over Autumn
  on Lake Massabesic, and it's miles of wandering trails. Massabesic is an Indian name, meaning
  "the place of much water", the source of drinking water for Manchester (The Queen City) and
  surrounding towns; including Auburn, Hooksett and Londonderry.

                    The trail heads are many. The grade of hiking anything but arduous. To her it's
  the spiritual aspect of it - the journey- that she yearns for.  The towering Pines stretch
  their branches to welcome Mandy- the usual traveler. She smiles with ease and accepts
  her smallness among the trees. Her sense of "knowing' this forest comes alive as she envisions
  the wind - there...a whirl of pine needles and falling leaves.

                      Deeper and deeper into the woods the presence of the wind lessens on the trail.
  As if by instinct she navigates the familiar places, passing blueberry bushes and large stones of
  granite. Chipmunks stand their ground, or scurry over gathered field stones. She smiles at the
  woodland creatures.

                      Looking into the woods she sees many downed trees.They were the victims of an
  ice storm from 2008, that changed the landscape forever. She absorbs the loss, but also sees the
  beauty of green moss that clings to the severed branches. The new ferns bigger than ever. 

                      Then her body shifts to a fresh wind rushing through the empty spaces.
  Nothing for her eyes to see here but the usual beauty nature has to offer. Except...
  over there- a quiver of red petals and fresh fallen leaves gathered under a pine bough.
  She walks off the trail to explore the colors  more closely; a red so distinct, begging to be
  discovered. But it is not a gift of nature she finds. It is a body.

                      "No God. No God", Mandy bellows, as adrenaline outraces all emotions to her
  beating heart. Her stomach erupts as she turns away. Twisting and falling to her knees she
  clutches her stomach.

                      Stricken by shock, she darts her big blue eyes forward and back, searching the
  woods for movement. The untamed sounds of the forest fall away.

                      Mandy turns back slowly, still on her knees. She leans over the body, her long hair
  dangling over the dead girls face, brushing over her pale lips. She can't be more than
  twenty, Mandy thought. Her throat was slashed, bleeding out into her tangled brown hair.

                      For a second, Mandy thinks the girl might still be alive. Her wide open eyes so delicate
  -like a dancer in a Renoir painting. But she wasn't alive. Her face was as white as a full moon at night.
  Her brown eyes and matching brows, the only expression of color in her innocent face.

                      Mandy stands up straight and fast. Instinct takes over. She feels another presence
  in the woods.Standing as still as a Birch tree, she listens intently, but hears nothing. Looking down for one
  last time, at this lifeless body, acutely aware of the hopes and dreams that died this day, she starts
  to cry. She wanted to scream out "Why"?

                      With her hands over her mouth she mumbles through her fingers, "What should I do"?
  The forest wouldn't answer her, it's not to blame. She knows what to do. Run. Now!

                      Over this body she jumps; through the woods she bolts, not even looking for the trail.
  Surviving THIS is her only thought. Her inner compass tells her to run away from the Lake. As mindful as
  she is of the evil back there, fear rakes her spine; biting at her heels. She tries not to blink, branches
  slapping her face, cold wind attacking her eyes.

                      The scent of musk oil comes first, but it's not alone. Mandy's nose is as keen as her
  eyesight. She runs from tree to tree, looking ahead and back, trying not to trip over rocks.

                      Someone is here, shuffling through the leaves. "I have to see him before he sees me",
  she declares to herself.  Eying a huge Hemlock with low hanging boughs, Mandy scurries under
  the branches like a startled tree squirrel. Her shield will be nature, but how does she arm herself?
  Perhaps a death trap, camouflage, to fool the enemy. From her imagination comes a real
  vision, of the hunting knife she wears in her boot.

                      The killer is coming to take another life. With a measure of confidence Mandy makes a plan;
  to bury the knife, with precise alignment, deep into his self serving, dream snatching, barren and blackened,
  murderous heart. Mandy's own heart thumps with a purpose beyond it's own rhythm. "Now is not the time for
  panic," she thinks.

                      "If a branch moves, I'll see it. If the wind shifts, I'll feel it. I am aware," words mindfully said to
  to herself. But he is a skilled killer, he is abominable, he is provoked.....He is standing fifty feet away! Mandy
  sees him complete, from head to toe. A brute of a man.

                      The madman walks in circles, resembling a 'man-child' shuffling his feet in the dirt and
  fallen leaves. He looks lost. She thinks if he gets dizzy and falls on his head, that would be victory.

                      She stares at the grotesque monster of a man and sees that his huge hands make no fists.
  She assumes he is just waiting for her neck to fill the void. Her quiet ends when she leans forward and cracks
  a twig under her knee. In an instant Mandy is peering into the face of a murderer, who is peering in through the
  branches that secure her life.

                       Mandy thinks, "I don't know your name stalker. Hell, your face is hideous. And as you near MY
  den, I see your intent is to take my life. But I'm going to take your life today. I'll balance my body and grip my knife
  with all my strength."  This is the voice she so badly needs to hear.

                       By blissful chance, and ready skill, her knife provides the exact angle as all his weight charges
  towards her, beneath the tree's canopy. She holds her breath, pushing forward to steady her body against the
  force of gravity, so sure if she lets go of the knife, this crazed killer will take her momentum, next her life.

                         His hands finally meet her neck with genuine murderous intent. But the look on his face is that
  look people get when they realize ' this isn't a bad dream'. Mandy's hands hold tightly, driving,  thrusting the knife
  deeper. His breathing is gargled as blood spills through his savage lips. There is something he needs to say to her.
  His malicious eyes seem to ask one departing question-"Who are you?"

                         He exhales, Mandy inhales. Then she extricates herself from the knife as he collapses onto
  his side. The sluice gate opens wide; his blood pours out of his chest like Chianti from a spilled bottle.

                         Mandy isn't quite ready for the sounds that follow; songbirds, chipmunks, a Raven flying
  overhead, the wind rustling through the trees. From all corners of  Lake Massabesic, throughout the labyrinth of trails,
  the business of nature returns. In this arena of combat, the excitement comes to an end. Motionless as she sits, the
  matters to be dealt with now revolve around her and a murdered girl.

                         Mandy, who envisions a fight to the death; where the blood on her hands would not be her own,
  relates her ordeal to willpower and self reliance. And he who displayed control over his victim; by stealing her dreams
  and taking her life- by going against nature- never knew what struck him.