A Cliffhanger: The Stalker

Cliffhangers (also called round robins) begin with one part of a story, usually short, suspenseful, and ending at a moment of danger, and are finished by someone else. The following cliffhanger was started by me and finished by T.J. on http://storiesfromtheweb.org
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I didn't bring my cell phone to the party. How typical of me. And in the situation I was about to be thrown in, I wish with all my heart I'd brought it. My parents refused to pick me up, because they needed the car for groceries, so I had to walk a few blocks back home. At first it seemed normal.

The pale, silver-grey moonlight was blocked by billowing black clouds, making it so dark that the dim light of the street lamps didn't help a bit. But they were enough that when I looked back, I saw a huge, burly shadow following me. Still trying to appear normal, I quickened my pace, praying to get home before anything happened.

But the shadow was too fast. The thumping footsteps of heavy boots thudded closer and closer. But I could hardly hear them over the rapid beating of my heart. There I was, not four blocks from my house, about to be whisked away to memories and nothingness.

Powerful hands grabbed me from behind, and shoved a knife to my neck. Not daring to breathe, I was thrusted into a long, black car that drove up, headlights glinting ominously. Why, oh why did I leave my cell phone at home? Already my life was flashing before my eyes.
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The Next Part (By T.J)

The car was obviously dark, and I was scared out of my wits. I knew that if I didn't get out of here, I would never see daylight, so I was trying to think of a plan. But instead, my mind went blank, I found myself thinking of my family.
Of my mother and father who would never see me again, of my little sister who looked up to me.

Tears began to rush down my face and I began to sob. As a result, I was shaken roughly by the powerful hands that had thrown me into this dark place. "Quiet little girl" a voice growled, sounding like rocks rubbing against concrete "And we'll spare you".
Spare me? That had only gotten me more frightened, and my sobs got louder.
Suddenly, a hand struck my back and I cried out in surprise, whimpering as more tears ran down my face. "I said quiet," the voice once again growled, but the person sounded calm, which was scary for me.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" I asked, cowering and whimpering. I heard the man snicker and a light shone down on my face "You'll see" he growled, and for once, I could see his face. He was young, about 25 or so, with sandy brown hair and dark blue eyes. If I wasn't in such a situation, I would have said he was handsome, but this wasn't the time for that. Suddenly, the car drove off, and I started crying again. I was only a few blocks away from my house, and I would now never return home.

Then the car stopped, once again strong hands picked me up and carried me into a house. The house seemed abandoned, and I was taken down into a basement. The man threw me to the floor, which surprisingly was covered with a mattress of some sort. "Sleep" he growled "And don't try anything, we'll figure out what to do with you in the morning". Then I heard boots walking up the stairs, and the slamming of a door, and soon, I was left in complete darkness.
I wouldn't cry this time, I had run out of tears, so now, I would have to try and escape. I crawled on all fours around the basement, and soon I found out that I wasn't the only thing in the house. I found a chain, some fishing poles, and a lock, I wondered what this evil man would do with all of these things. Then, I had an idea, I lifted the chain, which was surprisingly light, and attached it to the lock. I crawled further into the basement, not making a sound, and soon found a window. The window wasn't very large, but it was big enough for me to crawl through, but it also was pretty high. Luckily for me, it was open, and I threw the chain and lock up and it sailed through. Still trying not to make a sound, I gave the chain a tug to make sure it was grounded on something. It didn't budge, so I tried to climb up the wall.
I figured out that I would have to climb up it in a sort of rock climbers way, so I did, and I soon reached the top. I crawled through the window, and I realized where I was. That abandoned house right accross from my own, with no backyard, I had seen this place before. I didn't look around long though, I ran as far as my legs could carry me.
Then, I couldn't believe it, I was at my house. I had worked hard, and I opened my door, there was my mother, sitting at the table, reading a book. "Where have you been?" she asked me, her voice soft and gentle. I didn't say anything, I just broke down and cried. I had found the thing I wanted most, and I would always keep it.

Freedom.

Pirate Orange

In case you can't read the caption above, it says:
Arr! Eat me to prevent scurvy! ARRR!

This orange is what happens when you put a bunch of people together in an office and bore them to death.
The orange itself eventually rotted and was forced to walk the plank.
I thought it was weird enough to be worthy of mention.

A Single Rose

I didn't actually experience Hurricane Katrina, but I wrote this in response to it and to honor those who did.

A shadowy figure walked through the graveyard. Unwilling to dwell too long, the figure quickly found the grave.
Tears welled in the his eyes as flashes of memory appeared. Oh, he could try to hold them back, but his attempts were meaningless. It couldn't be stopped.
The hurricane mercilessly destroyed the carefully-mended communities that he knew so well. He remembered, with distaste, the whirling world, picking up houses and cars and people effortlessly.

He remembered the face of the girl steadily losing her grip on the branch.
"HOLD ON, SANDRA! GRAB MY HAND!" he had yelled, fearing his voice would be lost on the wind.
Sobbing, she tried to reach, but her delicate arms were too small.

Suddenly, as fear lit up in her eyes, the force became too much for the branch she was hopelessly clutching.
"SANDRA!" he cried, but it was too late. All that remained was the whipping wind and the cruel tides.
With a flash, he was back where he had been the whole time, with her unkempt grave before him.
His tearful eyes skimmed the gravestone once again:

SANDRA REYNOLDS
1997-2005
Lost to Hurricane Katrina
We know you're in a better place now

He had never entirely let go of her, his only daughter.
As he could bear it no longer, he placed a single rose on the gravestone and hurried away.

Lift the Darkness

For I can lift the darkness
And uncover the glittering light
That lies beneath the ugliness of reality
And leave evil behind your sight
I can take you to the top of the mountain
Where the eagle cries above
I can lift your chains and give you freedom
I can show you peace and love

Dirty Pool

Dirty Pool--by Knighthawk (http://krfiction.blogspot.com)

"Karr, you would never make it on your own," Bonnie argued, her voice
calm but stern. "You need technical support."
"I have heard this speech only too many times," Karr growled back as
he turned to leave. "And for the last time, I do not require
technical support, a partner, or any other sort of caretaker."
"You're property of FLAG, you can't just run off like this!"
"Correction; I was property. I was a slave here for four years. Do
you expect me to just sit back and take it?"
"Well…" Bonnie had never asked for Karr's opinion about his treatment.
"You had me working from sun up to sun down. You treated me like
some sort of calculator, which I partly am, but the Knight Automated
Roving Robot is not just a calculator. Realizing this, you ordered me
to go on a suicide mission to stop a bomb from detonating in San
Andreas. After the Firebird was blown to pieces, what did you do?
You made me go back to being a calculator. What was I computing? The
dimensions and sequences for my own replacement that you called the
Knight Industries Two Thousand. That killed me a little inside,
Barstow. I thought I was a hard worker and that I was appreciated,
but you all went and built another me that was supposed to be better,
kinder I guess. Since you have it and you don't need me, I'm
leaving."
"But Karr!"
"There are no buts about this. FLAG didn't seem to like me as an
ally, I don't think you all will appreciate me much as an enemy,
either."
"No!" Bonnie shouted and ran to the black Firebird. She kneeled and
put her head against the fender, almost crying. "Please don't leave.
You're my little miracle."
"Barstow, if you will excuse the personification, I may have been
born with my eyes closed but now I see the world. It's just a game of
dirty pool. Now get off me, I am leaving whether you want me to or
not."
"No! I won't let you leave! You'll just get yourself killed!"
Karr's engine was growling with a very deep and furious tone.
"You've messed with the bull, Barstow," he began in a steely tone as
the engine rose in pitch. "Now here come the horns."
Karr was trembling with the almost 1000 horsepower he was holding
back. Bonnie quickly moved and ducked as the rear wheels spun and
kicked up chunks of dirt. The Firebird broke through the gates and
shot off for who knows where. Bonnie watched after him in tears.
"Bonnie," Devon called her over the comm link. "You know what we
have to do now, don't you?"
"Yeah." The link cut off and she saw Michael walking up to her.
"He'll be back," Michael reassured her. Bonnie was still shedding
tears. "Hey, come on. What's wrong?"
"They're going to kill my baby."

--
~Knighthawk

Reckless Aim

Reckless Aim--By Knighthawk (find more stories at http://krfiction.blogspot.com)

Michael was standing in the empty warehouse, his gun loaded. He
could feel the adrenaline rush when he caught the unexpected sound of
his boot as it brushed across the concrete. After that, an eerie
quiet fell over the large warehouse room. He dared to take another
step. Kitt had analyzed the room as safe, and he trusted his partner,
but there was still no room for fatal mistakes. The quiet was so
deafening that Michael's ears strained to hear the slightest sound,
even if it was only the wailing of the freezing Colorado wind howling
outside the warehouse. He felt a little guilty about leaving Kitt out
in the snowstorm alone in such hostile territory, but he had managed
under worse conditions. The wind died down and the ear-splitting
silence set in again. He startled when he heard the crunch of tires
on the concrete and didn't think to look before he spun around and
pulled the trigger with a steady hand and perfect aim. Normally he
would congratulate himself on such a perfect shot, but the last thing
he expected to have shot was his own partner, but sure enough, the
Trans Am was leaning against the wall, trembling. Michael ran to the
car and pulled out a pocketknife in an eleventh-hour attempt to pry
the bullet out of the scanner, but he only deepened the wound.
"Michael," Kitt desperately called. "Is that...you?"
"I'm here, partner. I'm here."
"Michael...why?"
"I...I don't know."
Kitt's air intakes were working overtime in a useless attempt to
keep his CPU cool. He gasped and the entire frame began heaving with
the heavy respiration. All he could possibly comprehend was that his
scanner had just been hit with a lead bullet and his chances of
survival were only about fifteen percent and dropping by the minute.
The only thing that kept him holding on right now was Michael's
constant support. He had just enough time to send out a severe
distress signal before he was forced unconscious.
-_-_-
Michael was gently stroking Kitt's hood, a little concerned that
no one had shown up yet. Devon and Bonnie had their coordinates and a
helicopter capable of towing Kitt himself, so why hadn't they come
yet? He was beginning to give up hope that they would be rescued in
time to save his partner, and he was a little afraid right now. All
Michael could do was play his partner false and tell him that
everything would be okay, but deep in his heart, he knew the truth.
He knew Kitt was fading fast and if he was going to do anything, he
shoudl start now. Michael had to bear the weight of that for a minute
before the truth came down on him like a ton of bricks. What could he
do? Try and fix Kitt? No, he would probably end up killing him even
faster.
"Michael," Kitt called for his lifeline.
"I'm here with you, Kitt. And I'll stay here. Forever."
"Cut...the power."
Michael couldn't believe what Kitt was asking him to do. "What? No!"
"Please, Michael...trust me."
"Kitt, I won't be able to live with myself if I do that."
"Do you want...to see me die...like this?"
"Well, no, but -"
"Cut it." Kitt spoke with infinite patience for his driver.
"No. No!"
"Please! You cannot...save my life, but...you can save...me."
"How is that saving you? I'll just be killing you!"
"Michael..."
Kitt's voice was almost a cry. "Alright," Michael accepted. He
carefully climbed into the cabin, opened the dashboard, and found the
wires that powered the entire AI unit. He began to pull the wire
threads apart, repressing tears, when he felt a light shock.
"I can't do it, Kitt!" he shouted and pulled his hands from the
wires. "I just can't do this to you, partner!"
"I understand...completely, Michael," Kitt reassured, a little
disappointed. He sounded totally defeated and it hurt Michael to hear
him like this.
Michael sat back in the leather and suede seat. If he hadn't so
recklessly shot his own partner, he wouldn't be faced with this
decision. He was the cause of the pain that made Kitt ask Michael to
take his life and save him the suffering he would otherwise have to
endure. Michael understood now - Kitt was going to die either way and
he was asking Michael to make it easier on him. "Okay, partner. I'll
do this."
Kitt gasped and Michael figured that he just hadn't expected his
voice. He put his hands to the wires. "Are you sure?"
Silence.
"Buddy?"
Silence.
"Kitt?"
Silence.
Michael lifted the cover of it and jabbed the 'Reboot' button on
the LED box, but no startup signal came. He folded his arms across
the gull wing steering bar and began to cry.
He had killed Kitt.
If only he had cut the power. If only. The words echoed in his
head. If only he had listened, Kitt may have had a much more peaceful
death, if at all. But Michael hadn't listened or trusted, as he had
been tied up in his own selfish reasons for not shutting down the CPU.
He didn't want to live with Kitt's death on his shoulders, but now
that he had gotten his way, he had to deal with it being painful and
preventable. He was jerked out of his thoughts by footsteps coming
towards him.
"Michael?"
"Bonnie?"
"Is Kitt okay?"
There was a long silence between them. "No."
"What happened?"
"I...killed him."


--
~Knighthawk