230 The Peterson Chronicles: What was I Thinking?

[dk_angel7]

230 The Peterson Chronicles: What was I Thinking?
(F: 18 Years Old, Mud, Melodrama, 26 Pages)
By Dark Angel [Seven]
Original: May/30/2019
Major Edit: August/27/2025

We were a couple of “Mary Sues”, at least that is what too many people call us.

We hated it.

Both Sarah and I came from wonderful families until a heart attack killed her father and an auto wreck killed my family.

We went through a difficult time afterward until we met each other.

Sarah was quiet, withdrawn, and had very thick, long, and sandy-blond hair.

She was the classic “Barbie Doll” right down to her deep brown eyes and pale white complexion.

She fit the “Barbie Doll” image minus all the style, glamour, and makeup.

I was withdrawn, a-social, and spent nearly all my darkest years in mixed martial arts.

I walked into a High School plagued with bullies and drugs.

It would have been nice if the drug users and dealers had left me alone. However, they wanted to make a point that they ruled the campus and did not want anyone to talk to the police about it.

So, they went so far as to beat up anyone they even thought would talk.

Luckily, I was a better fighter than any one of them.

Growing up, I wondered why the attractive girls seemed to go for the creepy guys.

I was no angel myself after the auto wreck killed my family.

I was wondering why I did not have a good-looking chick.

My father was a pastor.

I ended up in the family of my father's best friend, a church deacon.

I was more than my adoptive parents could handle until I met Sarah.

I first saw her during my first year at high school.

I could only see her from her side or back and at a distance.

I had this frustrating obsession with long hair.

I had my mop of thick, straight, and dark blond hair.

She drove me NUTS every time I saw her.

This girl had an unbelievably stunning, thick head of straight, long, and blond hair.

Well-groomed, the sandy-colored mass went down to the small of her back.

She would cut it when her hair reached her hips.

She twirled her hair around a finger when she was uncomfortable or nervous.

Every time she had a chance, she brushed it.

I could swear God mocked me each time I saw her.

I had to look away.

I will admit that I did some wild things I would not do now.

Despite being rude and angry, I was VERY modest.

I did not care to look at all these bimbos who sought attention by tight clothing, short skirts, and low necklines.

Not like any of these cows bothered me. None of them even hit on me. I was not interested in these types of creatures.

She was a modest girl who wore dark long-sleeve T-shirts, turtlenecks, or pullover sweaters.

The rims of her skirts were above her knees, never shorter.

However, you could barely see her bikers or denim shorts under her T-shirts, but not so short as to show anything more than legs.

She tended to wear simple, tall boots that covered the calves of her legs.

Her knees were always bare unless, of course, she wore dark nylons, leggings, or simple blue jeans instead of a skirt.

She was a wonderful, modest girl.

To me, on a scale of 1 to 10, judging attractiveness, she was not even on the charts.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, stunning, and superb.

I was NOT the only one who became obsessed.

She would walk with her arms across her chest and her head down.

Her thick hair would fall off her shoulders and block her face from view from the side.

It gave her the false sense of security of withdrawing from the world.

Things were easier to ignore when you did not see them.

Yet a quiet, shy, and withdrawn girl with that much hair was impossible to ignore by ANY guy with a problem controlling his hormones.

I would never forget the one time she was with her family and a few other acquaintances.

I did not know the reason for the gathering.

She was with her older stepbrother.

Neither Sara nor I was typical.

We were the “Mary Sues”

There must be added drama and complications.

Her stepbrother was the drug dealer at the school.

She was impossible to get close to because of all of the family members and thugs that surrounded the half-brother.

She also hid her face behind that thick head of hair, making eye contact impossible.

She stood there while the group was in a hearty conversation.

With her back turned to me, I could see a mass of glorious long blond hair, a modest light denim skirt, and boots.

I could tell from a distance that she rocked back and forth and was uncomfortable with the current conversation.

She turned around, lifted her head, and looked at her surroundings as if something caught her attention.

She was ready to cry.

We made eye contact from a distance.

Both of us froze.

Her deep brown eyes locked with mine.

I could sense a deep desire for a connection.

I could feel her emptiness.

I knew she could sense mine.

I wanted to believe that we made a connection even at that time.

Real or imagined, I did not want to know which one was true.

I expected to be disillusioned and disappointed once again.

I expected this because it was what happened when a girl caught my interest.

I was the odd man out of everything.

Her stepbrother elbowed her side.

Startled, Sarah jumped a bit.

She threw a glance at him and looked back at me.

She quickly turned back around with a flurry of hair.

She shook her hands and pushed her hair back over her shoulders.

She threw a last short glance back at me.

She spent the rest of her time rocking back and forth, trying to ignore the people.

It would be a long time before I would see her again.

*

I was sure that Sarah was gone forever after the massive brawl on the last day of school.

Oh, did I say brawl?

I hoped that the school year would end normally, as it would for everyone else.

But I am the wild and wacky William “Billy” Shepherd. Of course, there was going to be a problem.

The fight sent her stepbrother and many of his goons to the hospital, juvenile detention, or jail after his group tried to beat the crap out of me.

Luckily, I spent most of my pre-high school years channeling my hate and anger into learning mixed martial arts.

By some miracle, I walked away from that one. I had NOTHING to do with starting it or the way it ended.

It came down to self-defense.

The summer went without any Peterson family member or friend bothering me, whether I wished they did or not.

*

The state and federal authorities investigated the fight.

It led to the purge of our local government, school district, and law enforcement.

Our community entered a new era with new leadership.

But old ghosts die hard.

I dreaded the first day of my second year of high school.

As usual, my stepfamily pushed me out the door and demanded that I show up at school a bit early.

I walked the entire distance wearing my usual dark glasses.

I had my usual thick, shoulder-length, blond, and mop-like hair that day.

Everybody knew me. I no longer had control over that.

With no real friends, I did not want to see or recognize anyone.

There were animosities left over from the previous school year.

I walked with my head down, looking at nothing but the sidewalk.

I reached the side door of the school and opened it to enter the building.

Someone walking towards me caught my eye, a girl.

I noticed her tennis shoes were well-worn.

Her faded blue jeans had a few holes in the legs.

She had a modest, long-sleeve, white T-shirt with a simple floral design.

Both arms were across her chest, holding a few books and binders.

I could not see her face. Her head was forward, looking at the sidewalk in front of her as she walked.

A mass of blond, thick, and long hair covered her face. It fell off her shoulders in front of her, hiding her face from view.

In shock, my heart stopped. I choked, stop beating. I almost died.

I froze. I could not move.

She walked to the same doorway.

She was startled when she saw my feet.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Startled, she jerked her head upward.

It was Sarah.

Was it a coincidence? I wondered.

She would tell me years later that she knew which door I entered and when.

She timed her arrival to reach the doors at about the same time I would.

Two big and glorious but frightened brown eyes looked at me.

She stood straight up, clicking both heels of her feet together.

Her face lit up as a large smile spread across her face.

My mind went black.

Her high-risk plan worked.

She finally got to see me live and in person.

I was more than happy to keep her company.

Embarrassed, both cheeks on her sweet face turned a dark red.

It comforted me because she looked exactly like how I felt.

She had no idea how this meeting would turn out.

She thought and feared that I would reject her.

Many had waited for the time to make her their trophy girl over the summer.

But, sweet, awkward, and shy Sarah had already made her choice. She took the opportunity to latch on to me as soon as she had the chance.

She chose the one guy who did the most to land her abusive father and stepbrother in jail.

She decided to make a move herself before others chose for her.

She had nothing to lose but the possibility of rejection.

I saw her as a wonderful person.

She did not want to be an object won or lost in an extended competition.

“Uh, duh, but, uh, coming in through THIS doorway? Well, of course. But! Uh!”

YOU STUPID FOOL! THE GIRL OF YOUR DREAMS IS STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU! Is THAT the BEST YOU CAN SAY?

She nervously tilted her head to the open door and shifted her eyes to look into the doorway.

She looked back at me.

All the while, she maintained a smile and a bright, yet awkward, look on her face.

She shook her head, yes.

Ok, genius! She wants to enter THIS doorway. What are you going to do NOW?

I smiled, held my breath, and made a hand gesture that invited her to step through ahead of me.

She maintained her big smile and blush as she walked through the doorway.

You dummy!

I whacked my forehead with the palm of my hand in frustration.

She threw a glance backward, wondering what made the sound.

I looked at her and smiled as I could feel my reddish face get hotter with embarrassment.

We took a few steps into the building.

She was uncomfortable in the crowded hallways. I was as well.

I could already see her grow uncomfortable and close up.

Her head went down, she flipped her hair off her shoulders to conceal her face, and gripped the books on her chest harder with her arms.

“First day here? Well, uh!”

She turned her head enough to give me a weird look.

“Well, yeah, I know. Sure!”

I waved a finger in front of my face as I desperately tried to make logical sentences.

“My first day too! But my second year here! That does NOT make it my first day. But!”

I turned to show my best “I’m so lost” look on my face, I could muster.

She offered up a big smile. Turned her head back and forward and downward.

I sighed in embarrassment. So did Sarah, almost in unison.

Startled, we turned our heads and looked at each other in a bit of shock.

Both of us could not help but smile and laugh.

I took her on a tour of the school.

I led her to her “homeroom”.

I showed her the school offices, library, locker rooms, cafeteria, and soda machines. I show the bathrooms and the cliques who used them.

I was so nervous that I could not stop. Feeling the same, Sarah went along with the journey.

The tour was so complete that she once stood by a drinking fountain and tried not to laugh.

She told me a few days later that she could not help but humorously wonder if I was going to introduce her to all the drinking fountains as well.

We shared a weird sense of humor.

*

The day was difficult for both of us.

As much as I wanted to forget the recent past, others refused.

There were comments, strange looks, and even hand gestures showing what several of the staff and my fellow students thought of me.

I found all my classes, books, binders, and materials.

Ready to cry, it was uncomfortable for me. I did what I could to hide my feelings.

I walked into the lunchroom.

I saw Sarah enter not long after, and we made eye contact.

She could read my face as well as I could read hers.

She had gone through many of the same thoughts and feelings.

There was a great sense of relief. We felt the same things, given that both of us had similar days.

After all, Sarah Ann Peterson, the oldest sister to the now-jailed school drug dealer, entered the same school he once controlled.

We had common enemies.

The harder the situation became, the more she became glued to my side.

We were there for each other, surviving another school year without being expelled because of who we were.

We went through it together and became closer because of it.

*

About four years passed.

Within that time, our social isolation ended when Sarah caught the eye of Cindy Hoffman, a popular and extroverted cheerleader at our high school.

Cindy was attractive. She had a thick head of long, straight, and black hair. But her hair was thinner than Sarah’s. She had brown eyes like Sarah and a contagious smile that matched her outgoing personality.

Cindy tended to wear T-shirts, tennis shoes, and skirts that were usually much shorter than anything Sarah would wear.

Cindy was “into” hairstyling and wanted to find out how Sarah managed her thick mass of long, sandy blond hair.

Well, Sarah’s mother (Gloria Rose) and much younger half-sister (Rosy Jane) also had thick hair.

They asked and were accepted into the group.

Gloria met Cindy’s parents, who were also outgoing and accepting.

Cindy’s soon-to-be boyfriend (Carl Leyland) lived next door. He was from a family that had been friends with Cindy’s family since their parents' childhood.

The network of accepting and outgoing people grew.

We were popular in the sense that people knew us, and you either liked or hated us.

So, how did I fit into this growing conglomeration of friends?

First of all, considering that both Sarah and I were obsessed with brushing and running our fingers through her hair, I became part of the “maintenance program”.

Second, being jealous of the attention, her mom and younger half-sister both wanted some for themselves.

Lastly, although I washed and combed MY large mop for a hairstyle, everyone wanted to get their fingers and brushes into MY head of hair.

It went WELL beyond the topic of hairstyling, and several strong and trusted friendships developed within the network.

A long-term friendship between the Lelands and the Hoffmans became an extended family with the addition of the Peterson family and me.

*

THIS summer (The Summer of the Drought) cemented so many loyal friendships within the clan.

Things happened. They were strange things.

Sure, people did not like us. They had little to no problems showing it.

We knew how to handle our critics. We had years of experience dealing with many of the same groups of people.

But many of us will swear to this day that something else stalked us.

We could not see it. But we felt it and sometimes even knew what it thought.

Some THING was out to get us.

Among other things, trauma after trauma and accident after accident, we would swear that something wanted us for itself.

It was interested in grabbing and ingesting our mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and other girls as well.

If it grabbed any of the guys, none of them ever talked about it.

They talked about it months or years later.

Age did not matter. It would not let you go once it had you, and not without a fight.

But we all survived stronger and closer than ever.

*

It was the first time we were at a pool party with this many people.

There were four of us, counting the three Peterson “girls” (the mother, Gloria Rose, the younger half sister Rose Ann, and Sarah) and me.

Even Sarah’s grandparents, John and April Ward, were invited.

We were with the Lelands, the Hoffmans, and a few of their friends during other parties. But this time they wanted to go big.

Everyone invited came and brought friends.

Some had much younger siblings, family members, and friends.

Over time, we developed a large group of younger kids who followed us.

Tonight, every kid came and brought a friend.

The party went late into the afternoon and early evening.

The group spilled onto the grassy lakebed.

Cindy Hoffman, who threw the party, became nervous as more people walked onto the lakebed.

I did not know why until much later in the evening.

The Petersons and I handled the gathering well. Grew quite a bit socially from it as well.

We were growing adventurous. We loved new places to explore, so we were the furthest out from the shoreline.

Cindy and her soon-to-be boyfriend Carl were with us, as well as another couple I had seen before, Mark Callaghan and Ciara Flynn.

Gloria, Sarah’s mom, came out of her shell and did far better than I expected. She talked with everyone.

Sarah’s grandmother, April Anderson Ward, also came out of her shell with the help of her husband.

Sarah’s younger half-sister, Rosy, had brought an older friend, Kathy Lockwood. Both were running rings around all of us in a game of cat and mouse.

Sarah stood close to my side. She happily watched everyone have fun.

That day, if beauty killed, I would be a mangled corpse. I would be dead many times over.

Sarah knew how to shop for modest one-piece swimsuits. They brought out the glory of her personality and physical splendor.

It was a black, smooth, nylon swimsuit with a high neckline and low hiplines.

It still had that bright shine, which accented her glorious golden hair.

As usual from behind, you would see her delightful bare feet and legs, the long mass of hair, and enough of her swimsuit to wonder if it was the bottom half of a modest two-piece or not.

Her long, glorious hair slid against smooth nylon each time he turned, walked, or twisted.

In moments of insecurity, she would look at me with her deep brown eyes and snuggle close to my side.

I put my arm across her back with my hand on her side.

She turned her head to look at me again and snuggled closer.

I would hold her tight until she gathered up enough courage to venture out among the partygoers again.

Sarah’s younger half-sister, Rosy, caught my attention. She and her friends were running circles around different people as if they were playing some impromptu game of tag.

She progressed from a nearly mute child, deathly afraid of her own shadow, to become a typical young girl blowing off a ton of sugar-charged energy with her friends.

I do not know how long I stood there as they ran, giggled, and played.

I was happy to see her free of the issues, difficulties, and horrors that had plagued her young life a few years before.

I looked to my side.

I looked behind me.

I looked at the small crowds around me.

Sarah had gone off to places by herself as a child before her father died.

She wanted to be off and alone in her thoughts and to enjoy whatever the surroundings of the location had to offer.

She found the courage to do it.

She was glued to my side ever since we met.

I knew she wanted to do that again, if not for any other reason than to relive some of her childhood memories.

I looked down at Rosy, looking upward with her brown eyes and a smile on her face. She held her hands down by her hips and rocked. A brief wind blew some of her brownish hair across her forehead.

“Uh, Rosy? Did you see where Sarah went?”

She jabbed her finger in the direction of a nearby opening in the tall grass.

An opening in the tall grass led to another large clearing on the lakebed.

Kathy Lockwood sneaked up from behind and “tagged” her shoulder and took off running.

Rosy looked at Kathy as she ran away with a frustrated look on her face.

Rosy looked back at me, smiled, waved, and took off after Kathy.

I turned and looked at the opening in the tall grass and wondered what caught Sarah’s interest.

“Well! She sure found a weird time to go on an adventure.”

I smiled, shook my head, and began to walk into the same opening that intrigued my ever-so-sweet girl.

*

I turned the last corner of the trail.

She stood in a wide-open clearing in all her stunning and wonderful glory.

I saw her from behind.

Her long, thick, and blond hair flowed from the top of her head, over her shoulders, and down her back to her hips.

My heart skipped a beat each time she lifted a hand to run her fingers through her splendid hair.

The silky, slick, and smooth nylon of her swimsuit shone in the late afternoon sun as it sank into the western sky behind us.

The black shine brought out a splendid contrast against her glowing sandy-blond hair and her indescribable beauty.

There were her slender legs and bare feet that dug into the sandy dirt.

Sarah rocked side to side a bit as she looked up at the remaining clouds in the near twilight sky.

She brought back a glorious memory of a long-lost portion of her childhood.

She relived the magical days of her mother's first marriage, when everything was happy and free.

She told me how, as a child, she would run in the middle of a wide-open field.

She focused on her thoughts and the beauty of the surrounding nature.

As such a naïve child, the few problems vanished.

Nothing but the peace and tranquility of the magical moment filled her mind.

In blissful happiness, she would skip, leap, and jump as she ran around the field.

She would soak up the moment as long as possible until she had to leave the field for whatever reason.

She missed those days.

All that ended after the traumatic death of her father.

Events that plagued her mother’s second and hellish marriage crushed the innocent dreams of the young child.

Sarah told me she wanted those days back.

Was she going to cut loose and become the carefree child she wanted to be?

Was she going to take the moment, toss all her problems aside, and be free?

She took a few steps forward and turned around. Both arms flew off to her sides, and her thick, glorious hair bounced with each step.

It was a glorious moment for Sarah. I had to watch her experience this breakthrough.

I scurried over to a thick, tall patch of grass, logs, and branches to watch this event unfold.

I did not want her to know I was watching.

I knew that she wanted to be alone.

Her happiness was contagious.

Her deep brown eyes sparkled with the enthusiasm of a young and happy child.

I saw a smile spread across her wonderful face.

Leaping, turning, and jumping like an elementary school child, she was having a wonderful time.

Sarah had reached a moment she had never experienced since she was a child.

I could hear her gleefully laughing.

I could see the joyful tears of pure happiness flow from her eyes.

I could even feel the bliss that surrounded her.

She continued to leap and bound for a while.

Then it happened.

*

It was such a crushing blow.

Sarah was able to experience the joyful childhood she had lost so long ago.

She reached the point in her life where she could let go of all the torture and troubles she had gone through for all those years.

She could finally look over her shoulder and not see a possible threat.

She felt free to feel free.

She let her turbulent past go without fear of traps and consequences.

What could go wrong?

*

Her footing became insecure.

Lifting her arms to maintain balance, a look of confusion spread across her face and flashed from her sweet and glowing eyes.

Sarah desperately looked downward at the ground.

Desperation turned into determination as she carefully and quickly stepped through whatever she walked upon.

She stopped.

I could feel myself choke. Yes, something went wrong.

Both hands were off to her sides with palms facing upward, wondering what had happened.

Looking downward at the ground, her beautiful face radiated a powerful sense of bewilderment.

Both of her precious bare feet vanished.

Her legs were almost knee-deep in the earth.

She turned both of her hands down to maintain her balance.

*

Oh no! Not now!

My whole body cringed as my stomach knotted. I put my hand across my mouth and dug the tips of my fingers into the left cheek of my face.

It was not the time for something to go wrong.

She needed this moment to let go of her trauma and relive the innocence of her past.

*

Sarah took both hands, gathered all the silky and sandy-blond hair that had fallen off her shoulders, and threw it all back over her shoulders.

The glorious mass spread across her back.

She reached downward and pulled on her right leg several times to free it from the earth.

Her thick hair fell off her back and rocked side to side in front of her with each pull.

She realized she was stuck.

She leaned to the right and tried to pull her left leg free.

More hair fell from her back and swung side to side in front of her.

I could not see her face. The beautiful flowing mass covered her face, blocking her view from her sides.

Sarah again grabbed her hair and threw it all over her shoulders.

She stood up and looked downward.

I saw thoughts and feelings radiate from her deep, brown, beautiful eyes.

She was confused and uneasy about her situation.

She began to sway left and right, pulling on each leg stuck in the heavy mire.

I could hear her quiet, sweet, and soft voice grunt with each effort.

She stood up after several futile attempts.

A flurry of thick, shiny, and silky hair flew upwards, over her head, and back over her shoulders.

She turned her head left and right, searching for something to help herself.

Both hands reached outward as if they were hoping to grab something out of thin air.

I could see in her deep brown eyes that her mind diligently worked. She knew she was stuck. But, she did not know how badly.

The skin on both sides of her sweet, soft, and smooth face began to turn a light red. She knew she was in trouble.

Both knees were gone.

She was sinking into soft earth.

*

I did not want to believe the muck was deep.

I refused to believe that Sarah stepped into quicksand.

Why did I do this? Why did I miss the thought?

It was not her first time dealing with deep mud.

I thought she knew how to escape a muddy quicksand.

She needed time to think of her options.

The quiet, soft gasps and grunts of a wonderful, quiet girl gave way to more intense sounds.

My sweet, timid, and gentle Sarah exploded into a fit of frustration.

Why did I stay there?

She was stuck!

THAT was the cue I needed to see she was in trouble.

THAT was the cue I needed to jump out of my hiding place and run to help her.

But something held my mind.

I would lie there and quietly watch.

*

A glorious flurry of long, thick, and silky blond hair flew around her as she struggled.

It brought out everything that made her a wonderful girl.

Her sweet and reserved voice screeched with grunts and gasps.

Arms, hands, and nimble fingers swept through empty air without aim or purpose.

A thick blanket of gorgeous sandy blond hair slid against the waxy, silky, and smooth nylon texture of her black modest one-piece swimsuit.

It flowed with each twist and turn.

The setting sun behind me played hell with my mind.

The sunlight shone on Sarah as she struggled.

Her swimsuit still had the wax on it when he had first purchased it.

I swear it even sparkled as she twisted.

Even her hair shone in the sunlight as if it flew around her as she twisted and turned.

*

I did not think of racing out there and pulling her to more solid ground.

I wanted her to work herself free.

I wanted to give her some space and solitude.

I did not want her to know that I watched and admired her all this time.

I was still out of sight as she struggled in vain to free herself.

I began to rethink my thoughts when I saw her situation get worse.

*

Sarah was up to her thighs in heavy earth.

The ground rose, sank, and rolled as Sarah pulled on each leg. It refused to give up any skin that the soggy trap had already claimed.

It shifted its grip as her legs sank deeper.

I saw the earth itself mercilessly hold and resist every effort of Sarah to pull free.

She was near the point where she would be helplessly trapped.

She grunted and groaned.

Frustration radiated from her precious, glowing eyes as the earth held her firm, slender, and glorious legs.

She grabbed her hair and threw it up and over her back with a toss of her hands and the flip of her head.

A few more swipes with her fingers, and all the strands of her thick hair were over her shoulders.

She stood there, rocked, and gasped for air.

I could see it in her eyes and the look on her face.

It was far worse than an inconvenience.

The slightest move forced her legs deeper into the earth.

Her charming eyes and face began to glow with desperation and fear as she twisted and turned to look down at the ground around her.

Her legs were in so deep that she could touch the ground with the tips of her fingers.

The earth had a few more inches of smooth, soft, and pure skin to ingest before it swallowed her legs.

Sarah lifted her head. She twisted from side to side, searching the far reaches of the clearing.

She ran her fingers through her long hair.

Her precious face and eyes glowed with the fear and desperation growing in her mind.

Her hands reached outward as if to grab things that were way out of her reach.

She knew that she was alone and away from her friends.

She knew that she was in quicksand.

She began to rock from side to side, pulling on each leg.

Her quiet voice grunted and groaned with each pull.

Her wonderful arms swayed with the flow of her thick hair against her back.

She twisted and turned to look at the ground around her. I could see the look on her face as each attempt to escape failed.

She knew that he had to get out of the sucking muck now.

She waved both of her hands in front of her at a loss for what to do next.

Whines of desperation once again turned to fear as she broke into a frantic struggle.

Sarah longer struggled out of frustration. She panicked.

She twisted hard as each leg pumped up and down in the grip of the earth.

Each twist sent waves of the earth around her outward.

Each twist of her head sent waves of hair down her back, over her shoulders, and face.

Each twist forced each leg a bit deeper into the heavy and wet earth.

The ground gave out a deep, loud, sucking, and gurgling splotch.

The look on her sweet face defined the growing doubt and fear.

She shook both hands in front of her as if she had felt something slimy and gross.

She tried to lean back and away from whatever made the sound.

But the ground continued to slobber as she worked her legs deeper.

Both legs vanished into the earth. Mire rolled onto her twisting hips and the smooth nylon of her shiny, black, and modest one-piece swimsuit.

“No! No! No!” Sarah’s sweet and quiet objections passed through her lips. “No! No!”

Another grab and another mass of gorgeous hair flew over her head and to her back.

She placed both hands on the ground and began to push herself upward against the force of the suction.

Tears began to flow down her precious face.

Her glorious eyes began to show what she knew. She was in serious trouble.

Again, Sarah placed her hands on the ground on each side of her.

There was enough solid earth on each side of her to support some weight.

I could see the strain on her face as she closed her eyes and groaned as she pressed downward.

Her hips rocked as she struggled to break the suction of the thick earth on her legs.

She quit with a gasp, lifted her hands, and frantically looked at the earth around her.

She tried again, pushing and struggling.

She was hip deep and could not free herself from a lethal, sucking quicksand.

The setting sun began to reflect off the tears that rolled down her face as her head turned from side to side.

Her thick, long, and glorious hair continued to sweep from side to side behind her with each turn of her head.

The low angle of the sun put Sarah in a spotlight that set off a wonderful glow around her. It radiated everything glorious about my sweet and gorgeous Sarah.

*

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!

Lying there in the brush with both elbows planted in the ground, I shook my head and slapped the ground with both hands to clear my mind.

With thoughts, deeds, and even my own words, I was WAY out of line.

I had sworn to keep Sarah as safe. I promised that I would keep her away from fear and harm.

I was hooked on her hopeless struggle to free herself. It augmented everything that made her a sweet, precious, and gorgeous person.

YOU SICK IDIOT! I made sure that I understood that I had made a grave mistake. GO OUT THERE AND HELP HER!

The moment when I tried to push myself upward to get out of my grassy hiding place and help Sarah, the force of all hell came crashing down upon me.

Pinned to the ground and choked, I could not yell, scream, or make any sound.

I was a gagged and unwilling witness to a sadistic lesson I did not want to hear.

An intoxicated, demonic, and excited voice echoed through my head.

“So you are infatuated by Sarah.”

That was right!

“I will teach you what real infatuation is.”

I soon regretted being cocky to a powerful, insane, and demonic entity.

I was planted into the hard earth and forced to watch as a psychopathic circus played through my mind and acted out in front of me.

*

Sarah was beautiful even as she struggled with indescribable grace.

Her deep black, waxy, shiny, and silky-smooth nylon one-piece swimsuit fit her slender hips and waist.

No sane guy would ever try to search for anything more adorable.

It was not humanly possible. Some fools would waste precious years trying in vain through porn or other vices. They would come up empty, unfulfilled, and tortured.

But beauty was in the unforgiving grip of a merciless beast.

Heavy and soggy muck held her hips and legs.

Small clumps of the earth would break off from the lips of the thick slop that sucked at her hips.

Gritty sand and small stones within each clump slid against the soft and smooth nylon of her swimsuit.

Sarah fought hard to pull away from the clumps of earth and sucking mire that encased her.

But each clump would grind against her swimsuit as she rocked and twisted. The strong and smooth nylon would win without any evidence of a scratch, as each clump would fall away from her and merge back into the murky earth.

Her firm hips and strong swimsuit would stand up unscathed against the onslaught of the grimy and gritty earth.

But that was not the purpose of a lethal and sucking quicksand.

The earth around Sarah was bland, dull, and ugly, without any thought or feeling.

It mocked her. It pitched and rolled as it countered every one of her desperate twists and turns.

How could something so soggy, dingy, dull, lifeless, and even downright ugly mock the vast and pure beauty, splendor, and grace that Sarah radiated?

Something happened that was far worse.

There was going to be one winner in the long and violent struggle between the two.

There was a force deep within the earth.

It had one purpose.

Despite being painfully slow, it was steady, unrelenting, and without mercy.

Sarah was powerless to save herself from the overpowering and unstoppable suction of a lethal pit of quicksand.

*

“Forget the beauty. Forget the sweet and kind grace. Forget the splendor.”

Motionless and pinned to the earth, my eyes burned. My tongue crushed the roof of my mouth. I could not call, shout, or say anything.

The depraved and demonic voice echoed in my head.

I could do nothing but watch in forced submission.

“There is only conquest and consumption.”

I once again became aware of the sights and sounds of my sweet Sarah as she struggled in the unforgiving grip of the quicksand.

*

Sarah fought hard.

The quicksand shifted, surged, and rolled to resist every effort Sarah tried to break free.

Her powerful and thick hair would sweep the lightest leaves, sticks, and bits of the earth around her without her clean hair even touching the wet and soggy earth around her.

Her hair swept the air around her body.

Each jerk, twist, and turn was harder.

Arms, hands, and nimble fingers slashed through empty air without aim or purpose.

Once again, she reached for objects to pull herself from the death trap.

Her struggle was worse than in vain.

Each move forced her deeper into the mire.

Sarah was a little pet for the quicksand to play with that required little to no effort to keep in line.

The sounds this battle produced were sick and vile.

She gasped, grunted, and groaned with every effort, with the sheer desperation of a sweet, shy, wonderful, and beautiful girl on the losing end of a battle to save herself.

The quicksand rolled over her hips and onto her waist.

No twist, turn, or lunge would bring her hips back to the surface.

The wet mire surged and rolled as it crept up her swimsuit as she sank.

Sarah continued her fight.

I even heard her try to scream for help.

But she was a shy girl who rarely made a loud noise.

So each call was quiet and muted.

The murky earth around her also made some noise.

A little suck here. A little burp there. A little pop over there.

There was no emotion, stress, or worry.

The quicksand had everything under its control.

*

“Yes, she is gorgeous. Yes, she is so sweet. Yes, she is so kind.”

The hideous voice spoke in my mind.

“But, the only thing is conquest and the overpowering of all that is good.”

All that I saw and heard came together when I gazed into her face and eyes.

*

Both of her big brown eyes were wide open.

The sandy-blond bangs that covered her forehead in a thick blanket of hair did little to cover for the rivers of tears that now poured from her bloodshot eyes.

A tortured look of fear radiated from her sweet face, turning both of her cheeks bright red.

Her face flooded with tears.

Both hands clawed at the air above her, as she looked upward in violent desperation.

Sarah gasped, sobbed, and whined as tortured pain twisted her sweet face.

Her precious, deep brown eyes poured out rivers of tears.

Her “sweet Billy” was always by her side, protecting her from harm.

But Sarah had slipped away from her “Billy,” not telling him where she had gone. He was looking for her, but in all the wrong places.

“Billy! Billy! Please, Billy!”

Her hand shook as she reached outward.

A horrible, desperate loneliness and emptiness glowed from her precious and tear-filled deep brown eyes.

“Help me! Help me, please!” She screamed like she had never before. “Billy, help me!”

The quagmire growled, splotched, and burped.

Sarah dug her fingers into the ground in front of her.

She looked down and began to sob.

She grabbed her hair in front of her and threw it over her head in a flash.

She dug her hands back into the ground, looked downward, and gasped in terror.

The ground sucked at her waist as she desperately twisted and groaned.

Sarah began to sob in terror.

The quicksand reached the bottom of her rib cage as it sucked her waist into the soggy earth.

*

The whole incident tore at my mind.

It went on for way too long.

The waxy, smooth, and silky fabric of a nylon swimsuit allowed a person to glide through the water.

The tight fit of her swimsuit would allow the quicksand to secure a firm and merciless grip, trapping her.

The soggy, thick, and gritty earth would slide against the waxy smooth nylon as she struggled.

She pushed her bare feet deeper as she struggled.

The quicksand would have a firm grasp of her feet and legs as it sucked her downward.

As water against nylon, her gorgeous and slender body slid deeper into the mire.

“She is mine now! She is forever mine! You can not have her anymore!”

I had more than enough. I had to fight. I had to fight harder than I had ever fought before.

“Her life is over. She will only be a memory.”

Again, I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and shook my head.

I THINK NOT!

I fought with everything I had to rid my mind of every thought.

I wanted to scream. But, I grunted and groaned.

I filled my mind with all the hate and anger I could muster against whatever forced thoughts into my head.

I rolled onto my back. Both eyes closed, my fists punched into the empty air above me.

Although I had faced similar situations before, this was far different.

Over the years that I had Sarah by my side, several others wanted to have her for themselves and do what they wanted as if she were some toy or trophy to win.

We help each other avoid confrontations.

At worst, I had to resort to my fighting skills. That usually led to regrettable encounters with Law Enforcement. I had long ago learned how to explain to the authorities why a bruised, battered, and unconscious person was on the ground.

I knew how to deal with a real physical predator.

But I now dealt with something I could not touch or see.

It had control of a good part of my mind. So I did what I could to fill it with so much crud that there was nothing for it to hold onto.

It had me pinned. So, I did what I could to rock, roll, and squirm and hope that it was enough chaos for whatever it was that had me to let go.

It finally broke.

I was on my feet in a flash.

“Sarah! Sarah!”

*

Sarah lifted her head and frantically searched for the direction of my voice.

“Sarah, don’t move! Struggling will only force you deeper!”

Sarah and I made eye contact.

Her face and deep brown eyes radiated the intense shock and disbelief.

I was here.

Tears exploded from her face and eyes. Both hands reached out in my direction as if Sarah begged for mercy.

“B – B – B – B – Billy!” Sarah choked out a sobbing cry. “Help me!”

I jumped out of the tall grasses and ran to my sweet and wonderful girl.

She took both hands, threw her hair over her shoulders, and reached out to me.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

I looked at the ground around me and in front of me.

Solid, very solid! I did not want to fall into the same pit that trapped my sweet and precious Sarah.

“Sarah, don’t move! I need to make sure I am on solid ground.”

“Billy?” She stuttered a bit in fear. "Billy, please help me."

“I’m coming! I’ll be right there!”

Maybe! That depended on the solid ground. If I can get close enough.

“Please, don’t move!”

The soggy ground bubbled.

Both hands went out to her sides. She looked down at the ground.

She was up to her rib cage in muck and slipping deeper.

It would reach her chest soon if I did not pull her out now.

I walked forward and closer to Sarah. The ground was still solid under my feet.

Sara panicked and began to twist and struggle.

“Sarah! Don’t move! Stay still!”

“I can not stop sinking!”

“I’m almost there. I’m almost there.”

The ground was solid. I was nearly able to walk right up to my girl.

A few feet separated us.

She was less than a foot away from touching solid ground.

If Sarah had taken a few more steps, she would have crossed a deep and murky patch of earth.

Apparently, the pit was an old sinkhole that the lake filled in with silt.

The bottom of the sinkhole gradually deepened the further she walked across the pit.

The silt-filled sinkhole deepened, making it more perilous the further she walked.

The bottom of the sinkhole plunged into the underground caverns before Sarah reached the edge of the pit.

The aquifer pushed up enough water to soak the murky earth and make a thick, deep, and unforgiving quicksand.

She reached out to me.

Both her beautiful, deep brown eyes glowed with the terror, desperation, and futility of her entrapment.

I secured my footing before I reached for her wrists.

Sarah reached for my hand and grabbed my wrist.

I leaned back and began to pull.

Sarah grunted, groaned, and twisted.

More and more of her rich, thick, and gorgeous hair fell off her back as she struggled to break the sucking grip the earth had on her hips and legs.

“Shake your legs, Sarah. Shake your legs.”

She gave out a few soft, but desperate grunts and whines as she lunged and twisted several times.

The murky earth around her began to pop, gurgle, and groan.

I felt something give.

The pit released its hold on her waist. Her rocking hips began to break free from the heavy muck.

Her long and precious hair pulled free from the quagmire and onto her back.

Chunks of muck slid off her swimsuit.

A loud and sucking splotch filled the air.

Sarah was on her hands and knees on the solid dusty ground in front of me.

Looking downward, she gasped for air.

All her precious hair had fallen off her back, covered both arms, and gathered on the ground in front of her, covering her entire head from view.

Clumps of the earth that still held onto her slid off her legs, hips, and swimsuit and fell to the hard ground.

The fingers of both hands dug into the hard earth as if she was in hard disbelief that she was back on solid ground.

I got down on my knees and reached for her arms below her shoulders.

Sarah regained her balance and strength.

Her face hid between a thick mass of hair that flowed down from each side of her head.

Small bits of dingy muck spotted her face and hair.

She looked at me as I lifted her to her feet.

Her sweet face and deep eyes radiated the bewildering shock and trauma of her ordeal.

I needed to get Sarah away from the pit.

I slid my arm across her back as she stood up and pressed her close to my side.

She was muddy. I did not care. I wanted to hold my precious girl.

She lifted an arm across my back and over my other shoulder. She could walk but was exhausted.

We stopped after several steps and turned towards each other.

I took both of my hands and gently gathered all the hair that had fallen forward from her head. I laid it all back over her shoulders.

Sarah held her head down, not wanting to show her face.

I placed the palms of each of my hands on the cheeks of her face. My fingers dug deep into her thick and silky hair. Both thumbs wiped fresh tears that had rolled from both eyes.

She looked upward into my eyes.

Exhausted, her face flooded with tears.

I was happy that my girl was safe.

I was happy that my Sarah was going to recover from the brutal ordeal. Deeply shaken, but she had been through so much in her life.

She was a strong person. I was confident that she would be back to her old, beautiful self.

I gave her a big, firm, reassuring smile.

She paused a bit as her thoughts processed the realization that everything would be all right once again.

I reached and held the back of her head. My fingers once again dug deep into her thick hair.

My other arm reached under her shoulder blades, and I pulled her tight against my chest.

Sarah pulled both arms close to her chest and buried her face into my shoulder.

She let it all go.

She began to sob hard and unrestrained.

I rocked her from side to side.

Sarah buried her face deeper into my shoulder.

She tried to get even closer to me, the tighter I held her.

She had her “Billy”.

She stayed right where she felt safe and secure once again.

[dk_angel7]

Sarah Ann Peterson
Her hair is thicker than it is in this image.

Sarah Ann Peterson Dreamup AI version.png