Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: FALSE (04/15/21)
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TITLE: The Wrong Path | Previous Challenge Entry
By Louis Detweiler
04/22/21 -
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“She ran down the path into the valley next to the river.”
The big broad-shouldered man, with a deep gash on his cheek, snarled, “Lead the way.”
I begged, “I can’t. I twisted my ankle. I can’t walk. You scared us and we ran. I tripped over a log in the dark and twisted my ankle.”
The big brawny man sneered, “You have reason to be afraid. I will kill both of you. You told Billy, the Marshall, I stole the church’s savings and now the town men want to hang me and my friends. If you are gone, there will be no witnesses. If I don’t find her, missy, I’ll come back for you and she will hear you scream in pain wherever she is.”
The big ugly man and his two companions pushed me into the dirt and took my walking stick. I couldn’t get up off the ground.
After two minutes, Serina, my friend, who they were looking for, came out of the shadows, “We must hurry and get help before they come back.”
“Serina, I can barely walk. They will catch us. Save yourself.”
“We can hobble along with your arm across my back. We can make it to where the path divides. We must choose the correct path, or they will find us.”
“Serina, what if we choose the wrong path?”
“Marci, we must pray for wisdom. God will guide us. Once they choose a path, they will follow it for the rest of the night. We will let God choose our path.”
In two hours, Serina and I had made it to the fork. I heard screams from the big man down below on the path, “I’ll kill you ever so slowly. Where are you?”
The men rounded the bend as we saw their torches approach us.
One of the men yelled, “I see tracks. The girls came up this path.” The big man chuckled.
I prayed, “Help us Father.” I felt a drop. “It’s going to rain, Serina.”
Serina put my arm over her back, and we hobbled up the slope off the path to a small outcropping of rocks out of the rain. We watched in amazement as the rain came down slowly at first then steadily. We could hear the men muddle among themselves as they splashed past us down the path.
Serina stared into the rain. She prayed, “God direct my steps to follow your path for deliverance.” We sat still and listened for footsteps but didn’t hear any.
As the steady rain fell, we prayed the Lord’s prayer and asked for safety and peace. We remembered Psalms 23 and repeated it in unison.
We awoke the next morning to a grey wet dawn. Hungry, cold, and wet we watched the day unfold.
We looked at each other and begin singing hymns. Our songs were sung low, but our spirits were high.
We hobbled up above the outcropping until we had a commanding view of the valley and town below. We kept singing throughout the day, but no one came to rescue us from town.
In the afternoon Serina turned to me, “I will wait until dark then go down the mountain to the village and get help. I can follow the ridge to the middle river, then to the village. You must not move but stay hidden. Don’t go on the path. If you see a large fire in the town, you know I will come back with help.”
“I will pray for you and for safety amidst these rocks.”
After Serina left I felt a sense of peace on the outcropping. The night was warm. Strangely, I wasn’t thirsty. My ankle throbbed so I closed my eyes and prayed. I prayed every prayer I knew. I prayed for help for the men who wanted to kill me.”
Near sunset I heard noises below me, but I was too tired to move. My ankle was still very sore, and I couldn’t move it.
I prayed for peace and fell asleep.
I woke up in a bed with Sarina staring me in the face. “You’re alive, Marci.”
“What happened?”
“The search crew found you where I left you and we carried you down the mountain. You’ve been asleep for two days.”
“We’re safe.”
“The bad men went down the wrong path and ran into the search party. They are locked up.”
“God looked out for us.”
“Amen.”
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My 2 cents...you wrote "After two minutes, Serina, my friend, who they were looking for, came out of the shadows"
When I'm writing, I'll often read what I have written out loud to see if it flows.
That sentence was a bit awkward.
Maybe simplifying it:
A few minutes later, my friend Serina came out of the shadows.
"Where'd she go? Tell me. Now!”
“Ummm, down the path. Next to the river.”
The huge man scraped a knife along the gash on his cheek.
“Show me.”
Rubbing my ankle, I tried to swallow my fear. “Can't walk. My ankle. Ow! It's bad."
These are just quick examples to show how to make language more authentic. If someone is angry, they aren't going to mince words. Likewise, pain and fear can create halting dialog. Although a nervous person or someone lying might ramble on. Listen to dialog around you and jot down what you hear. It's a great way to write authentic dialog. I also tried to sprinkle some body language to help the reader see the picture you're painting. You do an awesome job with this story. You pull the reader in and you have a great message. I like how she tried to lay a false path so they could get away. You've done a great job with this piece. I look forward to reading more of your work.