Something was interrupting Nora’s slumber. It was rhythmic, insistent, and unapologetically new.

Crickets? Why are there crickets in my apartment? She wondered with eyes shut. Despite her dedication to sleep, her other senses started reporting in. A warm dampness hugged her skin.

“uuuuggg, humid. AC must have died or got turned off. Whatever, I can deal with it later,” she grumbled, nestling deeper in bed.

Kicking up and down, she slowly pushed her microfiber comforter off. It would probably buy her another couple of hours.

“Wait,” she mumbled, thinking out loud, “Why are my legs trapped in an extra sheet? *sniff* Is that nature?”

Large, soft brown eyes popped open to darkness. She lay there listening, waiting for her eyes to adjust. In the two seconds it took for her pupils to go all low-light vision mode, the twenty-four-year-old discovered three things.

First, she was wearing some kind of oversized shirt dress reaching mid-calf. It was rough on her skin, but not itchy. This was not a spandex-rayon-polyester-cotton blend that made your butt look great. This was your great grandma’s nightie.

Secondly, the bed was not her purple mattress and bedframe. It was lumpy, way too hard, and announced every slight adjustment of her body without hesitation. Breathing was offensive to it. The bed groans were crunchy like wood instead of squeaky like metal.

The last and most important no good awful thing she could tell while still blind was that she was alone. When she went to bed last night, and every night for the past ten years, she slept next to the cutest blonde boy in the world. He is the best boy, the sweetest boy, Nosy the golden retriever. Nora couldn’t hear his soft snores or feel the mattress dip to one side, accommodating his 71 pounds of rolly polly belly.

“What the fuuu…” she exhaled, slowly pulling herself to a sitting position, the bed screaming with every movement. FIghting back panic best she could, she looked about trying NOT to make more noise.

Around her, shadowy outlines of plain furniture could be made out along the wall. There was a small, old-timey-looking desk with skinny round legs and a two-inch backboard going around the sides. Next to it was a big box on the floor. It looked like a giant toy chest with a rounded lid. Across from the bed was a door frame covered with a hanging fabric. The fabric was attached to the wall directly which is really weird cause why wouldn’t you use a rod and hooks?

The walls of the room looked like plaster, with sections of timber poking through and bulging in some areas. The ceiling was raw timber, with boards resting on long support beams that looked like…tree trunks. Yeah, actual tree trunks. The floor matched the ceiling, but these weren’t the pretty polished hardwood floors on HGTV. Oh no, it looked like Splintertown USA for her naked feet.

There was no closet. No static light fixtures or outlets on the wall. The blanket was not her microfiber comforter, but a patchy quilt. Her phone, the lifeline to everything, her electrified emotional support brick was nowhere to be seen.

What is this place? Am I in some kind of weird Amish Airbnb or rustic sex dungeon?

Nora brought her hands up. Her palms pressed against her face, she spoke to herself in a whisper.

“This is so messed up. I don’t think I’m hurt. Am I drugged?”

Her hands dropped down, the left arm flipping over to reveal the sensitive skin of her forearm. Taking a deep breath, she scratched hard with her fingernails against the baby-soft skin. Her lips pursed together as she gently rubbed the now throbbing forearm, puffy and red where she scratched. .

“If I was drugged, it must have worn off. Wait, would I be numb if I was drugged? Pretty sure I remember hearing about waking up and not feeling pain if someone slipped something in your drink. Maybe the drugs I was given don’t make you numb. Maybe they make you euphoric and go with the flow instead. Exceeeeept, I feel terrified, anxious, and confused…My kidnapper would use the crappy drugs that make you feel bad, what jerks.” she whispered, her hands checking her head for injuries.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

She felt all along her body, checking for injuries that were not obvious. No injuries, but tears welled in her eyes when she discovered she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

This was definitely a weird sex thing.

“Should I scream? No, don’t scream. If I scream, and this is a weird sex thing they might kill me. Or, they might like it. Shit. ok. I need to get out of here..”

Pushing down her fear, she deftly kicked off the quilt and ninja-rolled out of bed to a crouching tiger hidden dragon pose with a ‘thunk’. She mostly stuck the landing, minimal wobbling.

Nora inched back till she could feel the wall behind her. Facing forward, she listened, eyes wide, desperate to catch any sign of movement..Whoever was beyond the hanging fabric didn’t stir at the sound of her action-star moment.

“What do I remember? I… ummm… Nosy. Nosy was at my feet. I was on my computer and playing…ughhh.” she cried, doubling over.

A sharp pain exploded behind her forehead. Everything stopped as she clutched her head. Nora couldn’t think. Her brain stopped even the automatic functions like breathing. It was like her body forgot how to function. It was just a moment, but that moment was scary as hell.

“Maybe I WAS drugged. What do they do in crime dramas? It is always someone you know that does something that changes your routine. Or is it always someone you know and they know your routine? I should have watched more true crimes. Did I do anything differently last night? I was messaging ShawarmaForDummies on Discord abou….”

Pain erupted a second time. Nora kept her eyes shut, fighting nausea. Her breath was ragged, heart racing, and her underarms in need of deodorant. It took her longer to recover this time.

“Just focus on now. Gotta escape. Please don’t be a weird sex thing. Fuck I’m fucked. I am so fucked. Calm down. You are home, you are holding Nosy and rereading The Assassin's Apprentice. He is chewing a tennis ball and there is a cup of lavender earl gray on your nightstand. Just breathe. In. Out. iiin…ooout..…iiiiin….….oooouut.”

Breathing through her nose, everything returned to normal, well, normal for the situation. She was no longer on the precipice of a panic attack, but still without a phone, dog, security, or any sense of what was going on.

A loud hoot startled the scrunched woman into losing her balance and falling over. Her left hand shot out, catching herself with barely a sound on the uneven floorboards. From her awkward almost plank position, she twisted her head to look behind her. A window. Drapes wobbled ever so slightly, meaning the window was open. A potential escape blossomed hope in her heart.

“Screw it. I am getting out of here. My simple-life-would-be-murderer will have to find someone else to raise his barn. Run, Hide, Fight.”

Nora unfurled her slender frame to full height. She turned her body sideways, not willing to completely turn her back on the “door.” Pulling back the window curtains, she took a deep breath, savoring fresh air. Like real fresh air. Without air conditioning, the room she woke up in felt flat, stale even. It wasn’t hot, but it certainly was a far cry from cool.

“The. fuck. am. I?” she said, panic swelling with every syllable.

Stars bathed a quaint, medieval-ish town in silvery illumination. Thatch roofs and walls of unfinished timber were the material of choice. Her vantage from the second story gave her a decent view of the dirt road below. Across the street was a long barn-like building with “Starfall Stables” in white blocky letters on the front. Behind it was a pretty decently sized pasture. A fence that looked like something from a witch’s hut neatly marked the boundary lines for all the houses along the road.

Turning her head to the left she could see the lane curved up and away from her. The smaller buildings and larger ones were all similar. It reminded Nora of the suburbs she grew up in. A neighborhood of 400 homes had four possible floor plans with two different choices for a porch, front window, and garage door. Nothing looked dilapidated or neglected. Everything was orderly like she was at a reenactment site or one of those historical theme parks.

To the right, about a hundred feet away, was a wider road running perpendicular to the lane in front of her. She could follow it down about a mile before it disappeared behind trees. The trees were all around her, or rather nature was all around her. Looking out to the horizon, she saw no glow of city life, just inky dark outlines of mountains and woods.

“So I am in a town with no street lights, cars, or plastic. You know town might be too big a word, maybe a hamlet or village?” She watched the street for a good while, looking for any signs of life. She wasn’t really sure what she would do if she did see someone. If she called out, she could be alerting her kidnapper. Maybe her abductor was waiting for her to wake up so they could make her churn butter while eating corn on the cob…because that is the most likely reason someone would risk jail time to abduct a person… to force them into old-timey chores while they watched and ate corn on the cob…Luckily her mind safely protected itself by jumping to the ridiculous rather than the violent. If she started thinking of violence, she might not have the courage to look out the window, never mind escape.

“Is kidnapping across state lines a federal offense for kids only? There aren’t mountains like that in Florida.”

Looking straight down, there was a pile of hay right outside her window, Like, seriously. It was really big, and maybe if she dangled out the window and then dropped it wouldn’t hurt so much? It was that or take her chances walking the halls of probably-murder-but-maybe friendship hotel.

Certain there was no one outside watching her, she pulled open the curtain to let light into the room. The shadowy edges of furniture became defined. She could tell there was paper, a little jar, and a quill on the crudely constructed desk. The chest had simple carvings of people holding hands. There was a keyhole on the front that gleamed in the new light. The fabric hanging in the doorway was some kind of hide or leather that was long enough to pool on the floor.

“I should look for shoes. No way am I gonna make it in the woods walking around barefoot. Maybe there is a pair in the chest or a weapon I can’t use.”

Nora did her best sloth impression getting to the chest on the other side of the room. She took long pauses between each step to listen for any movement beyond the oh-so-secure door flap. When she knelt down to the chest, something strange happened. It was stranger than waking up in an unknown room with weird clothes and no electricity even.

A large metal key appeared in her hand.