March 14, 2011 by Mark Lidstone
Playtime – Killing Friends 1
For Dana Backus
The waves gently brushed against the kayak like little fingers, carrying it downstream. The sun was low in the sky and the breeze cool. Dana held her paddle on her lap letting Mother Nature decide where she would end up.
A lot had happened to Dana throughout her life that had forced her to grow up faster than she would have liked. There were traits, though, that she could never let go. Her curious nature and child-like sense of adventure had always overpowered the adult inside her. When she was on the lake, with no one else around, it seemed as though that adult side was completely gone – along with the responsibilities that came with it. She was relaxed, both physically and mentally. Then she heard the scream.
It came from the forest, the cry of a young child. Dana turned her head towards the sound in order to discover the source. The screaming subsided and was replaced by crying. She debated investigating but realized she was being silly. By the time she could get ashore and find the child, the parents would have already attended to it. Surly they were nearby. She drifted away.
Roughly forty-five minutes had passed since Dana had heard the crying. She sat staring into the water taking solace in the rhythmic waves. Removing the paddles from her lap, she prepared for the long journey back upstream towards home. Once she had begun to row, the crying returned.
She sat, silently listening. The child’s voice began to grow hoarse. Had the child travelled all this way downstream? Her curiosity got the better of her. She rowed the boat to the shoreline and tied it securely to a tree. Once the rope was tightened, she made her way into the forest – following the sound.
It wasn’t long before she came across a small clearing. In the middle was a tiny, crying, boy with his back pressed against an old, rotting tree stump. She looked around, no sign of anybody nearby. The boy appeared to be alone. She moved close to him and got down on her knees.
“Hi”, she said, “What’s your name?” the boy immediately stopped crying and stared up at her, rubbing the tears from his eyes and leaving behind blotches of dirt on his face. Dana pressed her hand to her chest. “My name is Dana”. He didn’t reply.
Dana stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans. She scanned the clearing again, looking for any sign of the boy’s family.
“Hello” she shouted, “is anyone there?”. While her back was turned, she heard movement. She quickly turned around and caught a glimpse of the small boy running out of the clearing into the thick brush. She chased him, screaming after him to wait. Deeper into the forest she ran, the sky growing darker from the setting sun. The trees were thick and dark shadows stretched out in all directions. Fear began to overwhelm her but still, Dana chased after the sounds made by the boy. He was unnaturally fast. She struggled to keep up – unable to gain ground on him.
Suddenly, her foot was snagged in an external root belonging to an old oak tree. Dana hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her body as the air was forced from her lungs. She slowly pushed herself to her feet. The leg of her pants was torn and blood soaked the denim. She quickly realized she was back in the clearing. It was much darker now but still she recognized the old stump that the boy initially leaned against.
Dana limped into the centre of the clearing listening for the boy. Behind her, the crying started up again. Nervously, she walked towards it. Then, the sound shifted. The crying was now coming from the opposite direction. She stopped in her tracks, suddenly very afraid. Her lip began to tremble as the crying moved through the forest. It seemed to be coming from all directions now. The crying grew louder and the trees began to shake.
A tiny squeak escaped Dana as she ran into the path towards her kayak. She stumbled downhill towards the water, ignoring the pain in her leg. Whatever was chasing her was getting closer. The trees shook all around her. Dana could feel small hands grabbing at her shirt and pants, pinching her skin as they did. She eventually found herself unable to move. Through her tears, she saw small, pale hands holding her in place.
With a groan, Dana pushed with all her strength, breaking the hold the hands had on her. The sudden release sent her tumbling forward. She fell through the trees, landing on the beach near her kayak. She stared in horror at her tiny vessel. It had been torn to pieces – most of it submerged in the water. She had no way out – no where to go.
Dana let out a loud scream as many tiny hands grasped her ankles, pulling her back into the darkness, towards the sound of laughing children.
Jessie - March 14, 2011 @ 10:57 am
I like this!
As I was reading there were like a hundred different outcomes going through my head of what might happen. I think that’s pretty cool.
It’s stories like this that make me question my everyday life haha.
Don’t go towards the creepy crying child in the middle of the woods:( Never a good idea.
Poor Dana.
The Muse - March 14, 2011 @ 11:08 am
This really reminded me of Dana. I can’t wait to read mine!
giselleeves - March 14, 2011 @ 7:10 pm
@MarkLidstone I will only acknowledge your stories when they are about ME. #onlychildsyndrom
MarkLidstone - March 14, 2011 @ 7:16 pm
@giselleeves You aren’t even following me on Twitter. I might just throw yours away.
giselleeves - March 14, 2011 @ 7:19 pm
@MarkLidstone Awkward
MarkLidstone - March 14, 2011 @ 7:19 pm
@giselleeves Really though..Fished it out of the garbage
martyzylstra - March 14, 2011 @ 7:20 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
DaveBartlett1 - March 14, 2011 @ 7:26 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
DanA (pennY) - March 14, 2011 @ 12:31 pm
wow.. It’s catchY! I like it! My poor KayAK!!! And you know Id run to the sound of any crying child.. I can totally see getting into that situation~:)
They are too confining…
Nicccceeeeeeee I Like I like~
2nd paragraph-right on..
The ONLY thing.. I dont typically wear jeans…
taralain - March 14, 2011 @ 7:35 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
craftycmc - March 14, 2011 @ 8:19 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
TheDeeView - March 14, 2011 @ 8:25 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
thelilredwriter - March 14, 2011 @ 8:26 pm
@MarkLidstone Well thank goodness you did because I wouldn’t have seen it otherwise. Good story!
MarkLidstone - March 14, 2011 @ 8:28 pm
@thelilredwriter Thanks Sharon! And thanks for the follow! It seems #MentionMonday is the best way to get the word out!
YourNeedToRead - March 14, 2011 @ 8:30 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
ThrillersRockT - March 14, 2011 @ 8:36 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
Actingnodrama - March 14, 2011 @ 8:43 pm
RT @MarkLidstone: #MentionMonday “Playtime” A short horror story. Sorry, this will be my last tweet about it. http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
Marie - March 14, 2011 @ 2:08 pm
Oh, and it started out soooo peaceful. The feeling of someone chasing you always brings shivers up and down my spine. Great description throughout. So sad for Dana.
Jordan - March 14, 2011 @ 7:36 pm
Niceeee Dana you got ownedddd. From now on if you ever hear a crying boy in the woods on your kayak always bring your paddle with you.
YorkshirePhilB - March 15, 2011 @ 4:24 am
RT @MarkLidstone: Wow, “Playtime” pulled in a record number of hits. Thanks for reading. Check it out if you havent http://www.marklidstone.com/TheWriter/?p…
Connie Mclauglin - March 15, 2011 @ 8:08 pm
You take my mind on these wild trips and I can feel Dana’s pain. As she is wanting to help this child she is never thinking she would be the one who would be screaming for help.Oh my think twice next time before going into the woods..