Gazing through the glass windows as the noon sun hung low in the paint splattered canvas of a sky. Mara was lost deep within forbidden thoughts. Her emerald colored eyes became lost in the labyrinth of mountaintops that seemed to roll on and on perpetually. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sharp piercing of her flesh. In a daze, her glossy eyes floated down and landed on her hand. She watched as a thin crimson stream of blood trickled down her wrist, to her elbow and rhythmically drip…drip…dripped…into a rapidly expanding puddle on the clammy tile floor. Her voice cracked as she mumbled, “Garrett,” The man who slouched on the pleather couch in the room over invested his attention in Black Ops 2 as oppose to his significant other, and responded to her cry for help with cold, lonely silence. She called to him again, this time a bit more firm, “Garrett!”
     “Whatever it is, it can wait, Mara. Just finish cooking dinner, I’m hungry” He said.
     Mara’s feet felt heavy as she dragged them into the living room, parking herself in the doorway. So soft, it was almost a whisper, she repeated herself one last time.
     “Garrett, please help me.”
     “One sec, I’m almost done with this level.” He said, not even giving her glance.
     But then, he heard that drip...drip…dripping…of the warm red liquid seeping from Mara’s left hand.
     “Oh god, what did you do now?” He said.

“Tell me you didn’t get that in my food” He added.
“I-I was cutting some vegetables and I guess the knife slipped” Mara’s words came out shaky like the trembles that rung out through her body.
     “Ugh, go clean yourself up and finish my dinner. Don’t make me tell you again.”        Garrett shot at her.
     His words knocked the wind out of her and gnawed at her skin. Mara stood there with disbelief, disgust, and splashed of hatred written in her face. She stormed out of the room and bolted to the washroom. She stared at her reflection through her blurred vision and watched as her sadness melted into anger. It was only a small cut, so her tears came from the burn of rejection as oppose to the now-numbed laceration on her hand.
     She sat on the ground behind a locked door and contemplated what to do. After a bit of thinking, Mara decided that she needed to blow off steam. She stood up and began to walk towards the luring front door.
     “Where ya going?” Garrett asked.
     “On a hike.” Mara responded, not making eye contact.
     “What about your hand?” He said in a condescending and mocking tone.
     Shaking off the sting of that comment, Mara slammed the door as she left.
     The beautiful Denver afternoon was unfortunately ruined by the sour mood of Mara. As she began her trek up the mountainous trail, her mind was being held captive by her previous interactions with Garrett. “He’s such a jerk” and “He doesn’t even love me” were the only thoughts resonating in her mind. The brutal

realizations had temporarily taken a toll on her alertness, and as the budding daisies disappeared and morphed into steep, rocky terrain, she paid no attention. Pebbles turned into boulders; the lush grassy trail transformed into an inclined, narrowed path. The vicissitude of the land was unacknowledged, for Mara’s thoughts were engulfed in a deep pool dark thoughts. All at once, Mara felt her world spin as the lace of her shoe became snagged on a stick and she began to tumble down, down, down…
Plot Change: Choose the Genre
For Romance continue.
For Horror go to plot #2
For Mystery go to plot #3

     Her head throbbed as she felt herself regaining consciousness. Unaware of what previous events had just occurred, Mara decided to keep her eyes closed, hoping that she was only dreaming. The feeling of someone else’s fingertips touching her stinging kneecap, triggered a sudden reflex sending the heel of Mara’s foot into the chest of her care-giver. A deep grunt provoked the lifting of Mara’s heavy eyelids. She scanned her body, taking note of the several bandages covering large portions of her skin.
     “Who are you?” She asked the man that stood over her.
     “Who are you?” He said.
     She began to scoot her limp body away from the strange man as she hesitantly
said, “I’m Mara.” The man pushed a cup of cold tea towards her and said, “The name’s Thatcher. Drink up, you could use the hydration.”  Reluctantly, she sipped from the tin cup. Her dry throat burned as the refreshing liquid slid down, and her frightened eyes met his kind pair. For a fleeting second, a spark ignited between their kindred souls. A glisten of the eye, a touch of the skin, and like magic, something clicked.
     Only a short amount of time had passed, but their bond was one that some only dreamt of. They had made their lofty decision as though it was as simple as picking what shoes to wear. Thatcher and Mara were in love and wanted not waste another moment without one another. Their fantasy of galloping off into the sunset with careless love pouring from their hearts was almost coming true. Their first task was to present their news to Garrett. Anticipation and excitement hung in the air like the oppressiveness of thick humidity as they drove the long route back to Mara’s previous cage. They parked the grey Jeep on the side of the street and sat for a moment.
     “Are you sure you’re alright?” Thatcher asked with concern.
     “I’ll be fine.” Mara responded.
     And with a kiss on her cheek, she was on her way. Her steps were small and light as she made her way to the wooden front door that creaked open.
     “Where have you been?” Garrett asked nonchalantly.
      Without warning, Mara spat out the words she had been dreading to tell him,
      “I’m leaving you.”
     The shock of those three, small, insignificant words shot surprise, anger, and confusion rushing through him, sending him onto his feet.
     “What?”  He bellowed.
Mara looked at the ground as he stomped into the kitchen, muttering to himself.
     “What the hell!” he screamed.
     Mara winced at the rising decibel level. Nonsense words began spewing off his tongue. “I’m sorry…” her voice trailed off, for his mumbled yells came to a halt. Her eyes were still glued to the floor, and all she could hear were Garrett’s shaky breaths.  She lifted her head as the point of a knife pierced her chest. The crazy hatred that burned in Garrett’s eyes raged as he dug the knife deeper into her lifeless body and watched as her blood drip…drip…drip out.

Plot #2: Horror
     Mara awoke to a sharp pain radiating throughout her entire body. Every inch of her skin ached with a deep pain. She tried to wipe the sleep away from her eyes, but her arms wouldn’t rise to her face. She tugged and pulled and tried to stand but her limbs were restricted and couldn’t be moved. Her eyes shot open like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Her arms and legs were bound together, she tried to scream, screech, yell, but no words escaped her taped-shut mouth. Suddenly, she felt a set of rough fingertips coil around her bruised ankle. Muffled gibberish came from Mara’s panicky mouth. The set of hands began to drag her rigid body. The stones and sticks that littered the desolate peak dug into Mara’s innocent flesh. They ripped and
preyed on her skin until she submerged into the pain and blacked out.
     When she came to, Mara feared opening her eyes once again. Slowly, she lifted her eyelids, she acknowledged the shifted setting; her eyes quickly adjusted to the insufficient amount of light. She scanned the dimly lit room and identified it to be some sort of cave or other subterranean area. Out of the corner of her peripheral vision, she spotted a man; one that she had never seen before. Her eyes immediately focused on the large, burly set of hands that held an outdated revolver. Mara shut her eyes and squeezed them tight. She prayed deeply that when she opened them again, the terror would vanish. In that moment, a higher power granted her wish, a shot rang out, and all of her pain was gone.
Plot #3: Mystery
     The hot afternoon sun beamed down and scorched Mara’s limp body. Slowly, she rotated her stiff, aching neck to survey the new vicinity. As she looked around, not a soul was to be seen for miles. The desolation was suffocating. A short distance from her disjointed and sunburned toes, laid a plate. On it was a slice of now-hardened and stale bread along with a block of half-melted cheese and a tin, three-fourths of the was full with hot water. Mara scanned the deserted area, though she spotted no one. She scrambled to the feast and began to devour it. She savored the sweet lovely taste of each morsel, licking her plate when she was done. The intense pain radiating through her system drained the energy from her body. She collapsed onto her back and fell asleep.
     This unusual and phenomenalistic process went on for many days. Necessities
would appear every morning when Mara awoke. She was convinced she had a stalker. Someone who surveyed her every move, and studied her while she slept, a stranger whose mind was enticed by her mere existence. Eventually the efforts of her follower became too unbearable to think about, Mara hobbled her way into the night, trying to locate a road or another living creature. Though the struggle became too large, looming over her, threatening to collapse on her, like her body. Her head began to spin, and the question roared in her mind,  “Where am I?”
      As she turned around, the trees began to disappear and the stars began to vanish, the scent of smoke in the distance wafted away. All she saw was black, no vision, as she realized that her life had been ripped from her hands, stolen a long time ago.