Stories I Never Finished

Kidnapped

Michael wouldn't go as far to say he was a strange type of man, he would at least consider himself able to be perceived as particularly normal.

Though, he did suppose normal would be screaming and crying when you're handcuffed in the back of a stranger's trunk; trapped in a speeding vehicle going who-knows-where.

He hadn't meant to be kidnapped today—not that he had plans to be kidnapped some other day—, but he supposed maybe he had walked directly into it this time considering he had been walking through the dangerous part of town late at night.

Late night shift at work, and he hadn't bothered to ride his bicycle for it. It was his own fault, really, he's been alive in the small town long enough to know what parts of town have zero street lights and far too many backstreets.

The one thing he would say he was upset about was the fact his phone had been smashed. A thousand dollars down the drain beneath a heavy combat boot and a gun shot, it was enough to make him mad.

As if being kidnapped hadn't already infuriated him.

It was a long while of bumping around within the trunk, wheels of the car gliding across what Michael could only make out to be dirt and gravel paths—far from the town's rough bitumen roads—until finally the vehicle came to a stop early in the morning, so early the sun was yet to grace the world with its enlightening presence.

When the trunk was ripped open with a foul swoop of air, Michael could barely see the tall towering figure of the young agile blond man who had aided in his kidnapping. There was a source of light nearby, faintly illuminating the dense trees Michael managed to catch a glimpse of as he was hauled out of the trunk by rough hands and strong arms before a bag was tightened over his head.

He didn't think the bag was truly necessary, it has become clear the kidnappers had stopped far within a lost woodland area; miles and miles out bush, living in a home Michael assumed they had built themselves considering what madman would contract a house and sell it in the middle of nowhere.

His body was thrown into a wall, forced to crumble to hard wood flooring before his bag was ripped off his head; bright lighting glaring like an angel's halo as his eyes peeled open against it—straining to focus on the looking figure of the beautiful blond towering over him once more.

Black jeans, black shirt, black shoes, the man's style wasn't overly exciting; then again Michael supposed kidnapper's wouldn't dress up for crime.
Pity. Dressing up might be fun.

Blue eyes stared down at him, chilling in their merciless glare