Deer Creek Drive Novels & Stories

NARRATIVE POV A small breeze swept through the neighborhood as Sheriff McKenna stepped down from his vehicle. He took out the card from the brown wallet and read out the address again: 1388 Carrion Drive, Greystone, CA 09101 — Residence of Mr Gregory Hale. A burgundy cottage stood in front of the Sheriff, its lawn choked with overgrown patches. A rusty mailbox marked the entrance to the house, the open lid rattling softly in the soft wind. The rest of the neighborhood had similar houses, each separated by winter-struck trees with withering branches.

A car passed going in the opposite direction with its high beams on. Lauren closed her uncovered eye in agonizing pain as a dreadful headache began pounding in her ears. She leaned her head against the window and concentrated on the hum of the tires on the road, her hands folded in her lap and relaxed. When they reached the outskirts of Saddle Creek, Chase slowed and turned left into a motel parking lot. He parked and turned off the ignition.

I didn’t argue, settling into the passenger seat while Debbie bounced in the back, singing a made-up song about unicorns and ice cream. The leather seats of my car still smelled of smoke from the crash, a remind of how close I’d come to losing everything. I looked outside the window as Edward drove, first at Darkwood’s distinctive oaks, then the neutral territory pines, and finally, the iron-rich soil that gave my family’s territory its name. Twenty minutes into the journey, Debbie suddenly piped up, “Mommy, who was that man at the big building?” My spine stiffened so fast it hurt. I half-turned in my seat, keeping myself calm. “What man, baby?”

she chuckled. “Yeah,” I said as I climbed into the passenger’s side of her SUV and settled in for the ride home. As we drove down the long wooded dirt drive to the main road, I couldn’t help scoping the woods for signs of either Jack or Drake. I sensed Jack was near, but what about Drake? Had he returned to Kurr? I’d no more than thought the question than I got my answer. There, walking as casually as you please about fifty yards from the road to my right was Drake.

I felt a tingle of excitement as we pass by a sign that says ‘Welcome to Desert Moon’. Large buildings, one after the other blend with the city lights. We make a right and drive up and down treeless hill after treeless hill until it brings us to a very long driveway. It looks like it goes on forever. The sun is still blazing mercilessly in the sky as we drive towards the massive packhouse. The concrete driveway turns into a red-tiled driveway and we’re surrounded by tall stone buildings.

A fucking monument to paternal devotion. "The weather's supposed to get worse tonight," Mark said, interrupting my thoughts as he turned up the defroster. Ice was already beginning to spider across the windshield. My stomach tightened. Snowed in. With David. The farmhouse appeared through the swirling flakes twenty minutes later. Two stories of white clapboard with a wraparound porch and smoke curling from the chimney. Picture-perfect Americana. A Norman Rockwell painting where the patriarch wanted to fuck his son's wife. Mark pulled into the gravel drive and killed the engine. The sudden silence was deafening.

shouted Layla amid the roar of the engine. "Alright." Brick replied with his keen ears picking up on her voice despite the outside noise. He turned where she instructed him and they came to a stop just before reaching the edge of the creek. LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL Old Mill Creek, Temperance, South Dakota...

Derek joked. “Chill out, bitch,” Shanna said. “You are not getting any weed while I am anywhere near the vicinity, is that understood?” I snapped. “What did I tell you? Diamond mines,” Derek grinned. “Double amen,” Shanna sulked. “This is it,” Derek said, pointing. “The one with the Pinto in the driveway.” I pulled up behind the ugly-ass, rusted-out Ford and let the engine idle. The house was a shambles, with peeling paint, shutters hanging off at an angle, an overgrown lawn, and a couple of window panes busted out and taped up with cardboard.

Trees whipped past on either side as they bounced along the uneven surface. “Are you sure about this?” Drake asked, gripping the dashboard. “This doesn’t look like a road that leads to a popular hiking trail.” “It has to be,” Zoe insisted. “I remember coming here years ago. It’s a bit off the beaten path, but that’s what makes the waterfall so special.” Drake narrowed his eyes. “When did you even… Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. They drove for what felt like miles, the road getting rougher and narrower. Noah’s heart sank as they rounded a bend and found... nothing. The road ended abruptly in a small clearing.

Then, he scooped up Ezra and started pretending to be a monster, but Ezra was distracted from his original question. The first pack we are stopping at is in a sleepy little town in Utah, a six-hour drive. It is the Ash Creek pack. According to Luke, it is a fairly small pack but one of the strongest. The drive was long but a great trip. We stopped at a little place in Jacobs Lake and had what I think are the best cookies I have ever tasted. The drive was beautiful.