Bo Drury, click
here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.
Blogs by Bo Drury
The Write Ring Mysterys 13/14 7/17/2007 1:51:46 PM
the plot thickens I woke up to a bad headache. I lay very still for a minute, then opened my eyes. Nothing looked familiar. I was not in my bed. I remembered where I had been, this was not it, I quickly sat up. I was in the lodge room and all five of my writing companions were looking at me with concern.
“How did I get here?” My head throbbed with the movement.
“You better stay still, you may have a concussion.” Robin said as he pushed me back to the sofa.
“No—no, how did I get in here?” I did not want to lay down, “I want to know how I got here and who found me?”
Phyllis spoke up,
“I saw you go into the woods from my bedroom so I followed you. I found you unconscious on the ground. No one else was around. Looked like you had a nasty bump on the head.”
”Did you fall or a tree branch hit you...what happened?” All eyes were on me, waiting.
I searched their faces wondering which one of them had hit me over the head. What was hidden in the woods out there? What was someone afraid I would find? Who could I trust?
“Why were you going into the woods off the path, Jo? We were told it was dangerous to wander off the designated paths.” Robin sounded as though he were speaking to a child. Did I want to explain to all of them what I had seen? I didn’t trust any of them not even Robin and I didn’t like the way he was talking to me either. I pushed him away and stood up.
The room swayed and Robin grabbed me.
“I think you should spend the day in bed.” Charles spoke up,”At least until you feel a little better.”
As I turned to go to my room I looked into Linda’s face. The look she gave me chilled me to the bone. Quiet Linda. What was that I saw on her face? Hatred? Why would she hate me?
It was a relief to get to my room. I locked my door and put on my pajamas. As I slipped between the cool satiny sheets I felt I could sleep for a week, but once there I kept thinking about all the things that had happened the past few days. I threw back the cover and went to the computer. I would make an out line, just as if I were writing a book. Maybe if I did this I could make some sense of everything. There had to be an answer to this.
I listed all the names and next to that I put down everything I knew about each of them and my impressions. There was a scratching at my door. I asked,
“Who’s there?” No one answered. I unlocked it and peered out. No one was in sight. As I started to shut the door I glanced down to the floor, there was a journal laying there, it had Anita’s name engraved on it. I felt a tingling all over my body as the hairs on my skin stood out. I shivered, then looked up and down the hall before I bent down to pick it up. Jumping back I hurriedly locked my self in.
I was breathless as I leaned against the door and held the leather bound book to my breast, then moved to the light and studied it. Who put this outside my door? Someone wants me too know what is happening here. But who could it be? Why didn’t they just come to me, why all the secrecy, what or who were they afraid of?
The clasp that held it shut was hard to open, when it came undone I almost dropped it. Bits of tobacco fell to the floor. Puzzled I opened it wide and found it full of sweet smelling stuff. I started to brush it aside then stopped, where had I smelled this before? I got a paper cup from the bathroom and poured it in there. It might be a clue of some kind. I read her entries of the past few days. She mentioned wanting to leave and not liking the set up here but other than that there was nothing except the last unfinished sentence, “I remember seeing him before but he has not recognized me, it was in.....”. Why had she left it like that? What was the purpose of giving
me the book?
