Dripping, Trudy ran up out of the ocean and up the slope of the beach. Sol Sulliman, the Dutch nobleman who had invited her to spend the summer practicing for her world swim meet had turned out to be an ogre, always trying to make a pass.
She glanced over the quiet fishing village in the hazy afternoon sun. Where to hide? Sol was within earshot and calling out; she headed for the nearest building, an old stone church with a spire. The door swung loosely. Immediately she saw the stone stairs up to the belfry. She realized that Sol was puffing already. He probably wouldn't be able to follow her to the top.
In a flash she was bounding up the circular stairs two at a time.
Sol did follow, but sat to catch his breath a number of times.
Trudy began to wish she hadn't done this when she heard the echoes of his chortling to himself, for if she wanted to come down she would have to pass him.
Trudy found a window at one point and by it someone had dropped a small notepad with an attached pencil. She stopped to write some notes, begging for the police to come catch the man chasing her.
Just as she had tossed about eight of these notes out of the open window gap, Sol called up, "Trudy, honey! Come down! I'll give you a loan. Make that a gift - 100,000 Euros."
Trudy froze. Enough to hire that professional swimming coach she had met at the previous meet? It was just why she had followed this crazy, stingy nobleman out here to this lonely place. If no one would find those notes she had just cast out... maybe she should give into this benefactor. How much damage could one sex act do?
Then she shuddered. She'd have to live with that memory all her life! It would do a number on her mind and paralyze her when she was swimming for fame. For that matter, she could end up with Aids. Trudy's chin sank as low as it would go as she realized that it might also keep her from ever returning back to God.
That 100,000 and the fame from being the world swimming champion grew into an ugly and selfish goal. It was not what she wanted to become.
Then she heard the slower pounding of Sol's steps on the stairs again. She rose up and kept climbing.
If there were ropes up at the top, and if she could muster the courage, she could let herself down the outside of this spire. Her desire to avoid this man Sol grew. She had to find a way out of here!
Trudy thought she could hear the distinctive local police siren, but when she reached the belfry and could look out again, she saw nothing. She turned back inside and looked over the tangle of ropes and bells. There had to be a pattern.
Just as Sol started to call out his offer again, she grabbed the sturdiest rope and shimmied up it a ways. Wearing just a bathing suit the rough hemp scratched her skin, but then the bells above her began to swing and peel out. The metallic din was horrible, yet she began to grin and laugh aloud.
At least the town could not ignore this racket. It would be embarrassing but she would accuse him of chasing her up here with evil intentions.
A hymn with a beat that went with the clanging of the bells came to her mind, and Trudy began to sing lustily as she found loops to rest her feet in and swung back and forth, pumping a bit like on the swing at home.
My entry for the Short Story Game - 1/28/09 -
About the Author: Ruth Marlene Friesen is a novelist, web designer and friend with more imagination that she can use up! You'll find her touch and words all over Ruthe's Secret Roses, and about half a dozen other sites. Ruth tends to get involved if you become her friend! She takes mentoring seriously.
Ruth Marlene Friesen
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