by Curt F
Gloria Swann struggled desperately as the women bound her to the pole…
It seemed like hours since she had first been lashed to the carry-pole by the three extras from the film – the ‘Amazon women’ – and carried into the jungle like a deer carcass. In actuality, it had only been minutes. It had all been a part of the movie that they were shooting in the jungles of South America, just another scene. One of many that had Gloria Swann, Queen of Escapes bound and gagged and apparently helpless and at the mercy of her captors. It was to be Gloria’s ‘swan song’, as the cast and crew had laughingly called her latest motion picture epic. To Gloria however, it was to be her comeback.
Gloria’s career had been faltering of late, and she was not so proud that she could not see it. The great roles she had played in the past were fewer, and more and more often her agent and manager had convinced her to taking lesser, smaller parts to help make ends meet and to pay her lavish bills. Gloria hated it, but as much as that was true, she loved living the high life that Hollywood had to offer, and in the end had conceded. She began taking the roles as the mother, the best friend, even taking the occasional bit as a nameless voice on a radio serial program or commercial. Anything to pay the creditors. It was when her agent presented her with the role of a grandmother, destined to die in a Roy Rogers western serial after only two lines, that she decided it was time to take action again and reclaim her life.
Gloria Swann had liquidated her assets and channeled her wealth into backing a new movie in which she would be the star. It would be a tribute to her career, and the films that had made her famous and a household name. An epic film that would have her fans clamoring for more. She had assembled the greatest technicians that Tinsel Town had to offer including an award winning director, a top-notch camera operator, and her favorite stunt coordinator whom she had known for years. She had commissioned a script from several of Hollywood’s greatest writers, though in the end she had chosen to use a story by a young and relative unknown named Willie who seemed to have a natural affinity for bondage, if not escape. Gloria had rented and purchased all that would be necessary to create her opus, calling in old markers to reserve a studio sound stage for her private use and getting permission to actually travel to South America for real authenticity from a friend in Customs. Within weeks it had all come together…
And it had been going so well. Certainly there was some tension. They were all jealous of her talent, of course, and her natural, if now mature beauty. Especially that upstaging little snot, Angela Morgan, her stand-in and stunt double. True, she was good at escaping from the perilous stunts that Karl Braun had thought up to expand on the initial script, and Angela’s resemblance to Gloria was uncanny, or at least would have been twenty years prior in the starlet’s youth. But Gloria was sure that the girl was out to take her job and status, to become the new Queen of Escapes. The girl had the others following her lead too. Braun was putty in her hands, of course, as the two had to work so closely together. All of the women, from the script girl to the nurse to all of the extras seemed to like her, though Gloria could not understand why. More obvious, all of the men on the picture lusted to get under her skirts, and thus, thought she could do no wrong. Gloria Swann saw what was happening, under her very nose, and she hated the scheming little brat for the hornet’s nest that she was stirring up. Angela Morgan would find however, that Gloria Swann was far from ready to be put out to pasture…
Gloria Swann had wondered if the Morgan girl was somehow responsible for her current predicament. She had struggled in vain ever since Harkins had directed that they shoot the bit where she was to be captured by her pursuers after a long, harrowing chase through the humid jungles. She had fought against the three extras, only half-acting as they had tackled her into the mud, then wrestled her into bondage with more enthusiasm than Gloria deemed necessary. Jonathan Harkins had said nothing as the three bound her arms and legs, then hefted her onto a pole and carted her off into the rain forest. The scene called for the cameras to be repositioned for several shots, and Gloria knew that she was to be bound for some time, but it still hurt, and was tiring. Her arms and shoulders had soon started to ache from hanging on the pole, and her senses seemed scattered from the jostling that she had endured as the three ‘Amazons’ ran through the jungle. She received a bit of relief when her captors had set her down to rest, leaving her tied and gagged on the ground as they wondered where the rest of the crew had disappeared to.
It was only after two of the women had gone off to find Harkins that Gloria realized she was in trouble. She had been struggling with the leather cords that were binding her wrists when a second trio of scantily clad women had appeared from the brush, dispatching her guard with a knock over the head, then scooping up the still helpless Gloria and spiriting her away. The trio were in far better shape than the extras that were only playing at being Amazons, and the pace that they set was swift indeed. They had veered from the marked path where the film scenes were to be shot, and Gloria quickly lost her bearings as the trio sped through the dense foliage. Gloria Swann bounced along like a jewel on a charm bracelet for what seemed like hours, helpless and at the mercy of the trio of exotic, mysterious warrior women.
Despite the aching in her shoulders and the strain placed on her wrists and ankles Gloria had soon found herself drifting in and out of unconsciousness. She was hurting, hot and exhausted from her ordeal and struggling, and the wild, jostling ride through the steaming jungle had eventually taken its toll. Gloria lost all sense of time, and it was only when she felt the cool blanket of shade drape over her that she had found the force of will to focus her senses once more. She woke to a dim, flickering darkness. Long distorted shadows played over old gray stone slick and slimy with mildew. She seemed to be in a tunnel, illuminated by a small flaming torch carried by the woman that was apparently in charge of her captors; the Amazon dressed in the black animal skins and golden bangles. Gloria tried to struggle again, but her ministrations simply made her ache all the more. The women ignored her feeble struggles and muffled cries for help, continuing down the dark passage to God knows where…
Gloria Swann woke once more, shivering in the cold, her mind reeling. She felt parched, and her skin was dry and chaffed beneath the leather that bound her wrists so tightly. Her perspiration had evaporated, leaving her chilled and nauseous. Her teeth were chattering, or trying to about the strip of leather that served as her gag. She was on the floor she realized, as her sight began to focus on her surroundings. The pole had been removed from beneath her bonds and she was lying on her side on the rough, cold stone of some vast cavern.
Gloria began to twist and pull at the strand of leather lashed about her raw wrists once more as she cast her gaze about the dimly lit chamber. She saw one of the women that had been carrying her off in the distance a few yards away, moving about the walls of the vast cave lighting torches ensconced in the wall in metallic brackets. With each torch that sprang to life Gloria could make out more of her surroundings. She craned her neck, trying to observe as much as she could, still working at her bonds, trying to remember all that she had learned about Escapology over the years.
She could not see the roof of the cavern it was so high and lost in the darkness, though she did see a pin prick of sunlight far overhead. The beam of light that shot down into the cave struck the ground at what appeared dead center, reflecting off of some circular surface littered with sparkling metals and jewels. It appeared to be part of a stage or platform, raised slightly off of the floor, with a dais of some sort upon that, flanked by two tall and stout poles that seemed carved with ghastly faces and other images that she could not make out. There were things hanging from the walls as well, and littering the floor that she could see. Shields and weapons, bits of armor and wooden chests and crates, some of which that were open and heaping with trinkets of gold and jewels in all the colors of the rainbow. There was a vast fortune just lying about, and Gloria felt her pulse quicken as she thought of all that she could do with such wealth.
What truly caught her eye, however, was the massive statue that slowly faded into being with each new torch that was lit. It stood over twelve feet tall, a great massive thing that seemed carved of obsidian it was so black. It sparkled however, shining like dark ice in the flickering light, giving it a sense of movement and life. It was shaped like a man, but as Gloria stared she saw that its head was that of a cat, like a gigantic panther, and its arms and legs ended in claws of ivory. Its eyes were inset jewels, rough chiseled slashes of green that seemed to burn in the darkness, returning her gaze. Gloria trembled, feeling as though those eyes were burning into her very soul.
Gloria grunted into her gag as rough hands snaked under her arms and hauled her to her feet. She had not even noticed the Amazon woman, and could do nothing as the warrior hefted her over one shoulder and carried her onto the stage only to roughly deposit her onto the raised dais. Within seconds she was joined by her two companions, the one placing the torch in a sconce at the side of the alter, the other – the leader carrying a large woven burlap sack. The leader grunted commands to the others, and Gloria was lifted again and quickly slammed against one of the tall totems where the two proceeded to lash her down.
While one of the pair crouched at her feet, tying yet another cord about Gloria’s legs and the thick totem, the other took her long knife and quickly slashed the bit of leather that had been binding her wrists for so long. Instantly Gloria felt the blood rushing back into her hands, making her fingers tingle with life. The starlet ignored the needle-like pain assaulting her hands and tried to surge forward, hoping to overcome her captor. The Amazon woman simply chuckled at Gloria’s attempt however, placing a hand on Gloria’s chest and roughly shoving her back against the stout wooden pole. Gloria’s head bounced against the old, hardened wood, and her head started to spin as the warrior grabbed her wrists and wrenched her arms back behind the pole. Gloria moaned into her gag as she felt a knew length of leather being wrapped tightly about her wrists, effectively pinning her to the totem. Gloria struggled against the bonds that held her fast, feeling the cord snaking up her legs even as another was being wrapped about her midsection. A final bit of leather was bound about her throat, forcing her head back against the pole and holding it in place, restricting her breathing. When the two women finally stepped away Gloria Swann found herself immobile and more helpless than ever, bound to the totem pole like some sacrificial lamb and still gagged.
When Gloria finally stopped her struggles and admitted defeat – at least for the moment – she focused on the third of her trio of captors. The leader of the Amazons was doing something at the dais a few feet away. She had used a smoldering taper to alight several small tins of incense, and the air in the cavern was filling with a vaporous smoke that was slowly spiraling up and away through the hole in the roof. Still, the odorous vapors invaded Gloria’s senses, and she soon found her mind reeling. It was not unlike the effects of opium, which she had experienced once during a trip to London when she was just starting out. Her vision was starting to blur, and she felt her body starting to relax. In her drug-induced stupor, her captors appeared larger than life and leering, evilly hunkering about. Gloria tried shutting her eyes, but her head just started to spin and she was forced to try and focus on something lest she sick up.
The woman was mumbling something, chanting, and holding up something before the huge statue of the cat-man. Gloria tried to struggle as she saw the Amazon turn, the thing in her hands glowing as though radiating heat. It was golden, oval-shaped and carved into the image of a face; a cat’s face. It was a mask, and as the warrior approached her, Gloria knew that it was meant for her. Gloria felt fingers intertwine in her hair, pulling her head back against the pole and holding her still. She struggled to no avail as the leader of the women raised the mask, placing it over her face.
Gloria Swann screamed as the world flashed white. There was no pain, but her mind swam, suddenly awash by images, memories that she had never experienced. She saw flashes of herself, small and clumsy, running through the jungle. She saw her hands as she speared a wild pig; blood splattering her arms and warm on her face. Later, and an old woman was draping a golden necklace about her throat. She stared down at the glittering cat’s head, surrounded by golden claws. She saw dozens of women bowing down in this very cavern before the statue, the monument to Nekara, El Gato Negra, the black cat and god of the Cult of the Jaguar. How she knew this, Gloria could not say, but her mind screamed as the images pushed her own aside, taking over her thoughts.
Gloria slumped in her bonds, her heart hammering in her chest, her pulse racing a mile a minute. Through bleary eyes she tried to focus, her head slowly falling back into order, something that she could control. She felt the hands release her hair, and she swung her head about, shaking it to clear her jumbled thoughts. Her gaze fell on the leader once more, standing before her, hands on her hips in arrogant triumph. She seemed different somehow; smaller perhaps, and paler. Her raven black hair had faded to a dull, curly brown, shorter and framing a gilded face of gold. It took Gloria a moment to realize that the Amazon was wearing a mask that mirrored her own.
Gloria felt her clothes being ripped away as the woman stared at her. The actress was not sure what exactly was happening, but she was starting to get a horrible idea. Her shirt was torn away, her corset and skirt sliced more carefully from her body eventually leaving the bound and gagged actress wearing only her imported French silk slip, brassiere and boots. Gloria saw the two Amazons that had tied her to the pole scurry off to one side where they set about repairing the torn and cut garments. The leader however stared at Gloria’s semi-naked body for a moment longer. Behind the mask, Gloria could not tell what the woman was thinking, but her dark eyes seemed to burn with a hunger, glistening in the wavering torchlight. Finally, after a tense eternity, the leader of the Amazons reached up and gingerly pried the golden mask from her own face.
Gloria Swann stared, a growing horror swelling in her chest. Her body was shaking as the woman before her smiled wickedly, finally tossing the golden mask aside and starting to laugh. It was a cold and vile sound, made all the worse as Gloria slowly realized that the voice that she was hearing was her own. The body, the face, every feature of the mocking woman made her blood freeze. It was like looking into a dark mirror. It was like meeting her evil twin.
Gloria stared at the twisted, mocking face that was her own and screamed. The thin bit of leather stuffed into her mouth as a gag did little to muffle the sounds of her terror, and the echoes seemed a long time to die.
Jonathan Harkins shielded his eyes against the harsh glare of the setting sun as he stared into the darkening jungle. Anger boiled within him, an irritating madness that had him biting on the bit of his cigar with such a force that he could feel his teeth grinding together. Gloria Swann had mucked him over once again, and he was really getting tired of it.
Harkins stalked along the trail through the jungle, his eyes scanning the script in his hand as he watched peripherally about him. He had the crew searching, looking for any signs of where Gloria – Miss High and Mighty – Swann might have disappeared to. All around him, hidden in the undergrowth, he could hear the familiar voices as they called her name, over and over. Harkins knew how pointless it was, but he let it continue none the less, if only for show. The cast and crew of the movie were getting nervous, and maybe just a little scared. Too many things had been happening recently. Too many odd occurrences that could not be simply coincidence, like the mysterious arrows, or the animal that trashed the camp and set that night the first week in the jungle.
Harkins knew however, that this was probably not connected. This was just Gloria Swann trying to remind him that she was indispensable. She was off some where having a temper tantrum over her lines, or a scene, or perhaps a jealous fit over her stand-in, the Morgan girl. Harkins had worked with Gloria enough to know the signs. She had done the same thing too many times to count. She was little better than a spoiled brat, a little rich girl that would hold her breath until she turned blue if she did not get her way.
Harkins was surprised that she had gone to the extent of actual physical violence though. Gloria was a great actress when it came to off camera histrionics. Usually, no matter the director or producer, if she yelled and fussed and stamped her feet loudly enough she would get her way. She had never actually resorted to hitting anyone. At least not hard enough to hurt them. But she had hit Jennifer Higgins, the Third Amazon. Hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious and draw blood.
Jonathan Harkins stopped in the small clearing where the cameras were being set up for the next shot and stared at the Higgins girl. She was still sitting on the mossy rock near where they had found her not long before. She had been out cold on the ground, a small puddle of blood matting her tousled brown hair. The cameraman Hunt had found her, along with the other two Amazon extras, but there had been no sign of Gloria. Kathy Parker had tended the girl’s wounds, which apparently looked worse than they actually were. Higgins would have a right and proper goose egg on the back of the noggin for a day or two, but Carol Page was fairly certain that she could make it invisible on film.
Parker, the company nurse was still swabbing at the girl’s scalp with cotton soaked in alcohol. The Amazons were hovering about nervously as well as the Morgan girl, all apparently concerned over the well being of their friend. Higgins was well liked, and had always seemed congenial to Harkins, though he had said nothing to her beyond the usual direction that he gave everyone else. He was far too busy to get involved with anyone, least of all a young wanna-be actress barely half his age. He did not imagine that she was lying when she said that she did not know what had happened. She had been hit on the head, after all. Harkins could not believe that Swann had staged the whole thing either, not that she was not capable of such a thing. No – Somehow Gloria Swann, the Queen of Escapes had actually remembered the skills that had made her famous, had escaped from the ropes that had bound her and managed to cold cock the Higgins girl before disappearing into the jungle in order to give him an ulcer. She was probably watching them now, laughing her over-sized ass off.
Harkins grumbled as Shirley hustled past depositing a sheet of paper into his hands; a change to the script’s next shot, sans Gloria. He scanned the paper, nodding his approval with a frown. It was not outlandish, and necessary. They were on a schedule, after all. They had enough shots of Gloria in bondage in the can. Close ups of Gloria gagged, bound with rope – thick and thin, leather, and writhing in various positions. Gloria was not necessary to the next scene, and his crew was good enough to work around her, or rather, the lack of her. Gloria had paid for the best crew available, and that was what she got. They would adjust the cameras and lighting, alter the set, and use Angela Morgan to the best of her abilities. Gloria Swann was a great actress, but she was not as indispensable as she thought.
Harkins stopped at the group surrounding the Higgins girl and smiled, just enough to show some concern.
“How are we?” he asked, trying to sound sincere. Higgins smiled back weakly, wincing as Parker dabbed at her scalp.
“I’m all right, Mister Harkins.” Harkins smirked, puffing on his cigar as Parker nodded in the background that it was true. Kathy Parker knew what she was doing, and Harkins trusted her professional opinion, more or less. As long as it did not interfere with getting his movie made.
“Well, get some rest Higgins. We don’t need you in the next shot, but we will need you tomorrow, without a bandage wrapped about your head.” Higgins laughed, instantly regretting it as a wave of pain twisted her face and she grabbed at her temples. Parker would give the girl something for that, hopefully, and something to help her sleep. She would be ready tomorrow, he was sure. The girl – all the girls were troupers.
“All right people, we’re losing the light! Let’s get this next shot over with! And unless our glorious leading lady decides to suddenly grace us with her presence all eyes will be focused on our more than capable stand-in, Angela. Do try your best to make her look good people!”
Harkins smiled as the clearing suddenly came alive with activity. The crew forgot the search for Gloria Swann, now intent on doing their job, setting up for the next shot. He did so love being in charge.
Angela Morgan winced as the rope bit into her wrists. She thought that Karl Braun was tying her up a bit too severely, but he was the stunt coordinator, and she had trusted him with her life more times than she could remember. He had to know what he was doing, and what was best.
It was the last series of shots that she would have to endure running through the jungle. Of that she was glad. Angela felt that she had lost twenty pounds just in the last week, in the sweltering heat and humidity, not to mention from the exertion. She felt too that she would heal from the scars on her legs. Her skirt was long and thick, but her calves were scratched seemingly beyond repair, and she had developed a slight rash along her upper thigh. She still did not know how that had happened, but Kathy had given her a cream that had so far kept it at bay, if not under control.
“Ah!” she yelped as Karl knotted off the cord, securing her wrists behind her back again. Immediately Angela began to rotate her wrists and reach for the ropes, straining her fingers to pick at the knots. It was something she did unconsciously, practiced by rote over countless hours of being bound. It was something she loved, beyond the action and adventure of the acting. The bondage excited her, but the escape thrilled her, left her breathless.
“Engel…”
Angela gasped, looking up to see her friend and mentor staring at her with his cool gray eyes. His face was filled with concern as he watched her struggle against the ropes, but he made no move to help her or set her free.
“Are you all right?” he asked, wiping her hair from her eyes. “You seem a little out of breath.”
“I’m fine. Just a little hot.”
Karl nodded with a smile. He knew more than he cared to admit Angela suspected, but he would never say so. He helped her to her feet, and together they walked towards her mark. She had gone over the trail already, twice in fact to make sure that she had memorized the markers along the way.
As far as stunts went, it was not very complicated. Angela was to run down the trail, hands bound behind her back, with the Amazons hot on her heels. She had just escaped from their temple, according to the script, and was running through the jungle in a desperate attempt to reach the encampment of her fellow explorers. It was rather shallow that bit, as far as stories went, but it was right up the alley of what Gloria Swann’s fans expected. Scene after scene of harried action, adventure and bondage. Angela did not expect to win any awards, either for herself or Gloria, but she would do her best.
Karl pointed out where the cameras were situated as they walked to her starting point. One would follow her from behind, giving the audience a good view of her bound wrists as though from the Amazon’s point of view. Another would catch her about midway through her run as she charged through the brush. She would need to remember exactly where that camera would be so as not to look surprised when she saw it, nor look directly into the lens and thus spoil the illusion that she was Gloria. The third and final camera was set up on a wooden platform actually nestled up in the branches of a tree. It would be trained on her most of the way, and it was that one that she had to keep in mind. She must not deviate from the path and get out of the frame.
Besides the run itself, there would be several jumps along the way. Nothing spectacular, but more than Gloria would be expected to do. Angela had to leap over several fallen logs, across a gap from stone to stone, and over a short embankment. A simple stunt, and easy money in her purse.
“Children…Children!” Angela turned to see Harkins barking into his megaphone, his entourage ready to bolt as they all hovered about him. Alice and Martha stood with two of the other Amazon extras that Angela did not know as well. They stood at their mark, ready to run along behind, and eventually pass the camera that Jimmy Barton would be chasing her with. Shirley Compton smiled, her perfect teeth sparkling as she gave Angela a little wave of encouragement, script in hand. She felt Karl’s hand on her shoulder as the director ordered everyone to their places.
“Do good, Engel.” Angela smiled as her boss walked away, his feet slipping a bit in the soft earth. It was hot out again, despite the fact that the sun was about to drop below the horizon. They had to get this shot in one take, because it would be too dark to try again after the first. The air would be thick with mosquitoes by then as well, and god knew what other creatures. Of everything that she hated on this jungle adventure, she thought that she hated the hungry, relentless insects most of all.
“Ready, people! Let’s get this in one, shall we?” Jonathan settled into his canvas chair and gave the script a final glance as Shirley held up a dimly lit lantern for him to see by. Jimmy Barton secured the panels on his camera and spun his cap backwards as he lined Angela up in his viewfinder, ready to run. Jackson Walters would be running alongside Jimmy, running interference as it were. The path had been cleared of low branches and jutting roots and rocks, but still, with Jimmy looking through the camera he would be almost blind. Jackson would be his eyes, trying to direct Jimmy along the course.
“Mark!”
Angela stood ready as Shirley slapped the marker for the scene, announcing the time, shot and take. Angela saw lanterns flare off scene, and a moment later a crank generator hummed with energy. Light splashed along the trail setting the clearing aglow like noon.
“Read lights!” Jonathan shouted, holding a small lens up to his eye and squinting through. “Cameras ready! Roll one!” Angela saw Jimmy start cranking on his camera to get it going. It would take a few seconds for the gears and mechanisms to lock into place, and another few moments for Jimmy to focus on her again. “Roll two!” Jonathan shouted into his megaphone, and she knew that somewhere down the trail Joseph Hunt was grinding away at his own camera now, up in the trees. The third and final camera would only start recording when John Thomas, the Assistant Director saw Angela clearly running down the trail.
“Quiet people…Ready…” Angela braced-
“Action!”
Angela Morgan ran down the trail for all she was worth. Harkins had told her that Jimmy Barton would not be able to keep up, but that was fine. She should try to outdistance him, to give the illusion that she was escaping her pursuers. She could hear Jimmy charging after her, but already lagging behind. She could hear Alice and Martha as well as the other two women, keeping pace behind the young cameraman, ready to rush past him.
Angela saw her first marker and leapt, legs churning through the air a short distance before landing hard on another stone a few feet away. She scrambled to get her feet beneath her, not an easy task with her hands bound behind her back, but she managed not to fall. She kept running.
Birds cried out in the trees over head and she heard monkeys chattering madly at her passing. The jungle was just coming awake, it seemed, and soon the great cats would be on the prowl; the panther and the jaguar. She wanted this to be over before the predators were out in force, if they were not already. She slid down a slight incline and ran beneath the camera set in the trees. Soon she would hear Alice or Martha cry out and she would have to pick up her pace again.
Angela jogged left, passing the second marker and dashed off into the trees. She did not recall the turn being so sharp, but then she had not been going as fast when she walked the course with Karl before. She was sweating already too, and she could hear the mosquitoes buzzing about her ears hungrily, drawn by her body heat. She was well past the halfway point, but she still had the final leap to go, and she needed to conserve her energy for that, so she held back despite her urge to outrun the insects.
Oddly, the jungle seemed to get thicker as she went, denser than she remembered. The trail seemed harder to follow with every step, and she was sure that she should have passed her next marker by now. She should have seen Thomas and the third camera crew as well. Angela slowed, suddenly worried that she had strayed from the path, listening for direction. She heard someone shouting her name-
Angela screamed as the ground suddenly broke and fell away beneath her. There was a deafening crack and crash of wood, and she was falling amidst a hail of tree limbs and matted grass. She heard something growl, drowning out her own startled scream as she hit the ground, landing hard on her hip. Pain shot through her body as she collapsed in a heap, debris falling down about her. Her vision whirled, spinning gray and exploding in bursts of throbbing darkness.
Angela moaned as she tried to sit up. Her leg was throbbing, but it did not feel broken. Still, she was in pain and dizzy. She wondered what had happened.
She looked up and around, trying to determine where she was. She did not remember a hole being along the route, so she surmised that she must have taken a wrong turn, missed a marker. How, she did not know. Not that the ‘how’ mattered. It had happened, and she was sitting in a hole, a pit almost ten feet deep.
Angela heard movement, heavy breathing. Something growled, a hungry, guttural thing. Angela stared into the dark corners of the pit, her eyes growing wide as she saw the shadows swirl and start to move. Something black slithered through the darkness, sleek, shining muscles glistening in the slight strands of light filtering down from above. Glowing slits of greenish amber flickered, considering her as they shifted from side to side. She saw a flash of white as something growled again.
Angela Morgan gasped as the great black panther padded into the circle of light at the center of the pit. Her heart slammed in her chest, threatening to explode. She saw the beast lick its muzzle as it stared at her, hunger burning in its eyes.
Angela screamed as it pounced…
Bound and helpless! Death stalking her! What will Angela do next? Join us for the next exciting chapter…
© Curt F 2002