The Abduction

This entry is part 12 of 17 in the series Issue XII: Spring 2013 Prose

By LuJira Cooper

A boat rocked gently on Jamaica Bay. The wind whistled softly through the night air as from behind clouds a bright and full moon appeared. The woman walked around a large cabin wondering where she was and why. Someone had grabbed her from the parking lot. After putting on a blindfold, her hands were tied and she was thrown into a car. Her abductor said nothing just continued to adjust the blindfold so she could see nothing. Her abductor undid the restraints, removed the blindfold and pushed her into the cabin.

The woman tried the door but found it locked. As she looked out upon the dark water, she knew even if escape were possible she couldn’t swim to shore. Suddenly, she heard the rustling of paper being shoved under the door. She looked at the cream colored envelope. She walked over and picked it up. Written in old English it said, I have bad news for you. You’ve been kidnapped. Why she wondered.

The door opened. A hooded person in all black threw her an outfit.

The voice demanded gruffly, “Put this on, wench.”

“Where am I,” the woman asked but got no answer. She pleaded with the hooded person but to no avail. It laughed but to her ears not malevolently.

“Put this on. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“What if I don’t put it on?”

“Then you’ll stay lock in here without dinner.”

The woman put on the dress. Two things amazed her about it. The cream color which matched the envelope and stationery and it fit her perfectly. Fifteen minutes on the dot the hooded figure returned.

“Turn around, wench, so I can cinch your corset.”

The woman did as she was told. The hooded figure blindfolded her and led her upstairs. “Watch you step,” it said.

She trembled as she entered another cabin. The smell of sandalwood incense relaxed her a little. Maybe it’s not so bad. But who would go to such lengths to kidnap me. She started to speak but the hood snapped, “Silence, you don’t speak unless spoken to.”

She nodded and someone pushed her onto the sofa.

A new voice whispered, “You want a Remy?”

She nodded not knowing whether to speak or not. She accepted the glass handed to her. She started to take a sip but stopped. May be this was a trick to drug her. The new voice chuckled. She couldn’t place it. Suddenly, Roberta Flack’s Oasis flooded the cabin. She felt the lights go off. A person walked up to her. She smelled Youth Dew. The person pulled her close and whispered, “Happy Birthday, Lauren. I love you.” She ripped off the blindfold just as the lights came on and saw the feast prepared for her.

She jumped into Moore’s arms. “I love you also. Damn, you’re sneaky.”

“My love, it’s so hard to surprise you. You look delectable as a medieval wench.”

“As do you, m’lord, dressed in satin and velvet.”

Moore fed the love of her life strawberries and cream while thinking of feasting on Lauren’s body.

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