From the Murk - A Finish the Fiction Story

      This story was written for @F3nix's Finish the Fiction Story Contest - Week #14.Each week, he posts a beginning script of a story, then asks that the participants write an ending and post it on their blog or in the comments. He rewards three of his favorite endings with shares in the Steem Basic Income program and splits the SBD payout with the
honorable mentions. Grazie, F3nix!

      Many thanks to @ntowl, who wrote this week's script. She is a freelance copywriter who has come to Steemit to hone her craft in the hopes to become a published author. She shares her experience through writing classes and her blog is a must read. On top of that, she's a hardworking mother that homeschools her child and teaches physics at an alternative education non-profit. Can you say amazing?

      Now, on to the story...

Into the Woods

The clouds rolled in as Sharon parked in her driveway. She sat there for a few minutes before going inside, pondering the immensely bad day she’d had.
It started off with her being late for work, the first time in nine years. Her boss had been waiting for her reports, and her lateness made him late which made him unhappy. No, unhappy wasn’t the word. Unhinged fit better. She’d left his office feeling assaulted and ashamed at having performed so poorly, even though she had been the top sales manager for five years running. Walking back to her office she thought it all felt a bit off - too intense for being a mere ten minutes late.
But before she could think about it for long, she was hit by a cart full of old desktop computers the IT guy was taking to recycle. The metal cart had ripped her nylons and left her with a bloody gash on her left calf and bruising on her thigh and hip. He hadn’t even apologized but instead glared at her as he picked up the equipment that had fallen to the ground.
The rest of the day continued like that. Everything went wrong from the vending machine taking her money without dispensing her granola bar to the afternoon coffee burning her hand. The harrowing drive home topped it off, and she considered herself lucky to have just lost a fender to a drunk, uninsured motorist.
Finally opening the car door, she glanced up at the sky. The clouds looked thick, but WeatherBug had said the rain would hold off until tomorrow. Not that she cared. She needed to run and shake off the day even if it poured and even if she was bruised and sore.
She changed into her workout clothes and grabbed her headphones before going back outside to the road. Her usual playlist blasting a little louder than usual, she headed north to the trail. It was her usual 10 km route she ran when she needed to think - or de-stress. Her body would move on autopilot while her brain sorted everything out so that by the time she returned home she’d feel normal and relaxed.
The trail into the woods looked a little darker than usual, but she thought it should with the clouds coming in. She didn’t even pause as she went from pavement to forest floor. Another half kilometer and the trees opened up onto a large pond, a swamp really except for the beavers that had built their dams to fill it up. She always slowed a little on this part of the trail to see if she could catch them working. She admired their persistence and ingenuity.
The mound that made their lodge wasn’t too far from the trail, but she had difficulty seeing it. She slowed even more but was unable to focus on it - as if it were twilight when the shapes and shadows blended together. But it wasn’t that late. She looked behind her, and she could see everything just fine.
Stopping, she stared at the beaver lodge and thought she could see a black haze swirling around it. Then she noticed the water. It too was black and seemed to have a dark fog floating just above the surface. Concerned more than worried, she started running again along the trail that continued into the woods. She thought she'd get a better view from the other side of the pond.

       Reaching the other side a few minutes later, Sharon left the safety of the worn down trail and made her way through the trees and underbrush towards the edge of the swamp. Her sneakers squished into the thick dark muck as she neared. Great. Now she'd have to soak and scrub them when she got home. Her nose wrinkled at the dank smell of brackish water tinged with something that was off. She paused, sinking a bit further into the wet mud while trying to identify it. The strange odor was bitter and metallic with underlying sweet tones. Like a tin of overripe fruit atop a bed of mold and ash.

      More curious now, Sharon continued forward, weaving and hopping onto the drier sections to keep from sinking ankle deep into the the wet earth. Ahead, she could see the rough edge of the dam. Quiet as she could, she crept towards it, stopping in surprise when harsh screams suddenly filled the air.

      Three beavers were scrabbling atop the dam, one chewing furiously at the wood while the other two bit and scratched at its neck and flank. The poor creature that was being attacked kept working, not uttering a sound while the two angrily attacked it. Their enraged screams were almost as awful as the sight of the deep red blood glistening in the gloom as chunks of flesh were ripped off of the doomed beaver. And the smell! Sharon gagged as the sickeningly sweet rotten odor filled her nostrils and coated her tongue.

      This was too terrible to watch. What was wrong with them?! Sharon picked up a branch and slammed it against the mound of wet wood closest to her. Loudly she cried, "Hey, Beavers! " hoping to draw their attention. It worked. Their heads jerked up, black beady eyes trained on the invader in their midst. Instead of rushing to attack her, as she had been expecting, they began chittering in unison. Their wide tails slapped down onto their home. Soon, the noise became thunderous as more of the creepy water rodents rose up from the dark mist hovering above the water to join the two in the chilling concert.

      Thoroughly distracted by the spectacle in front of her, Sharon hadn't noticed the group of malicious swamp rats that had snuck around her until one clawed at the leg she'd injured earlier. The sharp nails cut deep, shredding the soft flesh of her leg as ribbons of her blood flowed. Screaming, Sharon tipped to the side, landing in the branches and mud. One of the vicious bastards chomped down hard on her finger! The burning fire in her leg forgotten at the sight and feel of her digit being devoured, she swung her arm in an arc, using the rodent attached to her hand to sweep a few of the closest away from her.

      Her face hit mud and the filth and muck filled her mouth as her body was dragged down into the water. Sharon kicked, she scrabbled, she fought, and then, she went under. Her hands the last thing to dip beneath the swirl of the mist before the water again stilled.

      Hundreds of pairs of obsidian eyes were trained on the water, watching...waiting. Time passed, the mist thickened and the the blanket of night moved behind the low dark clouds. The dark water, intensely watched by the industrious beavers, began to churn. A roiling and bubbling moved atop the previously still surface as the beavers once again began their chittering and rhythmic tail slapping.

      From the murk of the swamp, to the herald of a hundred beavers, Sharon rose from beneath. Her eyes glittering onyx in the cold stone of her expression. She waded forward, taking leave of the water and heading for the trail she had left less than an hour ago. Behind her, the beavers fell in line, following their dark mistress obediently.

      The night was young, the air smelled sweet, and there was work to be done.

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Thank you @Omra-sky for my sweet Squirrple Necklace separator!Main image via pixabay

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art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics

Squirrel
World by @Omra-sky. Thank you!😻
GIF
by @Omra-sky. Thank you!

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Thank YOU for reading!