GrowingOlderHopeWiser

The Dark Man stepped out of the shadows and confronted Cassandra. Her first instinct was to freeze—like in the nightmare she’d had as a child—but fear burned into anger, and her quickness saved her. She fought him, fingers slipping on his mask, and tore it away. His wild red eyes would be forever burned into her mind. She ran out the back and jumped into a small motorboat she kept ready by her dock for hurricane season and worse—never really believing she’d need it for a man. Her muumuu snapped around her legs, and her red hair blew in the wind like a cascade of curls on fire in the evening sun. She drove her motorboat to Papa Sam’s house on stilts, the one place that had always felt untouchable. Papa Sam was working on an old boat out back when she arrived, breathless, hands shaking so hard she nearly dropped the line as she tied up and spilled the story out between gasps.

“Slow down—who is this Dark Man?”

“He was wearing all black and had a knife. He tried to kill me, Papa Sam,” she said, hearing how wild she sounded and not caring.

“I saw his face. He has a scar on his left cheek.”

“We need to call the police; you can’t go back there,” Papa Sam said.

Cassandra swallowed hard. The police had never saved anyone she loved before, but she nodded for his sake.