The new Gingerbread House
…What her life was like before all of this. Once, Sarah was part owner of a small but successful business. “Ladies Trails” had become one of the biggest online retailers of women’s casual hiking sneakers in the Northwest. It really started as a whim in her senior year at UCLA. She and a few of her friends had a similar tastes in outdoor activities. They occasionally would go hiking and camping whenever there was any downtime during their long semesters. Sarah in particular always enjoyed learning about survival skills and living off the land. On one particular night around a campfire, Sarah and her three friends dreamed up an idea of selling better hiking footwear to women, that could be more affordable and comfortable. Ten years later, after the occasional setback and numerous successes-the company was soon becoming a major force in the woman’s shoe industry.
One night months (years?) ago, Sarah had been walking through an empty parking garage towards her car. It was late at night and she had just finished up a long day at the newly renovated offices of her company. As she approached her car, she suddenly felt something dark and suffocating being thrown over her head. She screamed out as two unseen people grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into some type of vehicle. Not too much happened after that as Sarah slowly felt herself passing out.
And that was basically the end of her life as she knew it. The next thing Sarah remembers was waking up on the kitchen floor of this gingerbread house. A hand written list of very specific instructions were posted on the front of the refrigerator. Things she had to do every day for the total strangers that lived throughout the town. Acts that were now part of her daily everyday routines. If she defied these demands one would be penalized, quite harshly by the town’s authorities.
But, Sarah knew that they underestimated her. She wasn’t going to be dominated like the others. Others who were docile and mindless to the point of pure subjugation.
No, Sarah was different. She had been doing one thing all along secretly, to survive and escape……
To Be Continued
I am tagging Night-Owl Poetry to provide the next part.