WEP - PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

DAY "17th thru the 20th" 

OF THE HAUNTING

Photo by Julie Bittner on Unsplash

PREMONITION

Gray clouds and, occasionally, a mysterious gust of wind would stir the frozen snowflakes into weird dances that haunted Sarah daily. No sun, no birdsong, just the occasional crack and shattering of an icicle falling from a great height and the unusual gurgle of air escaping from the lake were the only sounds that filled her days. 

Sarah did her best to chase the blues away. Singing her favorite songs, Sarah serenaded the ice-filled gorge for her peace of mind and the echoing accompaniment. Sitting atop the rock in her favorite fishing spot, she sang as she fished for the fresh dinner she'd planned for Chet's return. He said he'd be back in a week, if not sooner, either with the rescuers or just to return to her because the mountain was still socked in.

Sarah hadn't heard the sound of one plane or chopper the entire week, even though she'd spent hours listening. Meditating, praying, and visualizing, to no avail. She had not been able to manifest anything positive, but still, she held on to hope.

She stared over the lake, wondering about Chet's location when she heard his voice. 

"Sarah, you really need to be more careful. Pay attention. Be prepared, he's coming." 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chet approaching and turned to greet him, but a sudden yank on her fishing pole had her jerking her attention back to the lake. The rod went flying. She grabbed for it but lost her balance and slid off the rock straight down onto the ice. Chet's makeshift cast on her broken ankle gave way, but so did the ice. Sarah slipped through and into the cold wetness. The pain surging through her body was nothing compared to the intense shock of the water as it consumed her.

Photo by Greg Nerantzakis on Unsplash

She fought with all she had to get back to the surface. But murkiness, tangled reeds, heavy clothes, and a heavier parka weighed her down. Her lungs felt like they'd explode before she would recognize which way was up. But she let go of a lung full of air and watched the bubbles ascend. She kicked off the rocky bottom with her good leg, and with her parka half on and half off, she broke through to the surface. Grappling to find a handhold on the ice and laboring not to be pulled back into the icy water by the heavy parka. She took a deep breath and yelled for Chet. But he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he'd gone for some rope. Calming herself, she removed the water-soaked coat and threw it toward the rocks sticking above the ice on shore that were out of her reach. After three throws, she managed to secure the hood of her parka over a large stone. Sarah pulled herself from the lake and across the rock-filled icy shore.

Breathless and unable to find her crutches, she crawled back to the cave. She knew how deadly hyperthermia was, and her only goal was to get to safety and warmth. But as she dragged her broken foot along the ground, the rest of the splint, mostly gauze, sluffed off. But a section became caught on a stone. She stopped to tear the rest of the makeshift cast off, which left her leg unprotected and made her movements even more painful. She took a moment to catch her breath, pray, and look around. Where the hell was Chet? She knew she'd seen him. She knew she heard his voice.

But a deep silence covered the area. No wind, not even a rustle. The pain in her leg was becoming worse. Even more than she remembered of the initial break. She laid her broken leg across her good leg. Just as a chill wind blew a swirl of snow like a dust devil at her. The clouds darkened, and lightning and thunder shook the gorge. Giant icicles by the dozens crashed to the ground, and blowing snow twirled and blew in all directions.

Darkness had fallen so quickly that it was as though someone had turned the lights out or closed the curtains. Sarah shivered and thought her bones would snap from the instant brittleness caused by the Arctic chill. Then her entire body began shaking uncontrollably. Her extremities burned as though they were on fire, and then they grew numb almost simultaneously. She gathered her strength and pulled herself backward with her hands and arms. She let her good leg protect and haul the broken one. Eventually, she made it to the entrance of the cavern.

Photo by Chris Ensminger on Unsplash

Sighing in relief, she suddenly froze in place. The howl of a wolf, something she'd heard several times since the crash, stopped her cold. The cry was close. This time, the wolf was closer.

She looked up. Atop the cliff was a gray-black wolf, his vicious fang-filled grin intimated at the terror he couldn't wait to inflict.

That's when she realized that Chet wasn't coming back.

He'd warned her.

It was Chet's last heroic deed.

***

842 words

Yolanda Renee © 2023

Tagline: Pay attention to your sixth sense.

This is another excerpt from the 7^th book of my Alaskan Series, Murder on Mount Fairweather, coming out December 2023.

READ THE OTHER ENTRIES HERE