Deer Creek Drive Novels & Stories

She closed her eyes and felt herself slide loose inside. Jesse Kretch lurched from his truck’s cab into the middle of Clarke Street. Bone-weary from pulling extra shifts at the lumber mill, mind clouded by too little sleep and too many beers, Jesse stared at the fluffy pink mound crumpled atop the embankment alongside Black Creek Bridge. Disjointed puzzle pieces from the last few minutes fell into place. He squinted as he stumbled toward the pile of pink fur . . . please be a deer please be a deer oh God be a deer please

He compliments me while extending his hand and helping me into the car. - "Ditto" - I blush, returning the compliment. Lee's father, Beta Martin Benson, is driving our car. On the passenger's seat next to him is his wife, Kim. Lee and I sat in the back. Four cars take off from the front of the packhouse. The destination is Crescent Moon Pack's territory, Blue Pine Creek, Northeast from where we are. Our pack's territory is called Misty Falls, two hours away, give or take, from Blue Pine Creek. It was named after the waterfalls that were located within our domain. Often, the waterfalls create a mist around the whole area, like a veil. This usually happens first thing in the morning. It's alwa

Out through the pasture, past the windmill and the chicken coop, down the gravel path that led to the main road. Dusty Creek opened up ahead of us like a scene out of another time—dry dirt roads, folks walking with grocery bags or chatting on porch swings, the scent of BBQ already floating through the air from someone’s lunch prep. It was an odd mix of charming and old-souled, with just enough stubbornness to feel like it had roots in the ground. The wind tugged at our clothes, the sun sat like gold above us, and Vanessa leaned back slightly into me, her head turning side to side to take everything in.

I look to Ben “Please get me to steady ground before I get sick” I snap laying back on drak “Very well handled Luna” Drake says kissing my temple. I smile watching as we drive through the territory. It was huge, houses littered the area, it was completely off the map and so so beautiful. It even had its own supermarket, fruit and veg stall and a coffee shop slash takeaway and a bar. A huge school building with a football field, a creche and a play park.

The moment their car crossed into Ashwood territory, the forest seemed… softer than usual. Not welcoming, but not hostile either. The wind whispered through the ancient branches, and Rhea felt a strange warmth settle in her chest. Home, something inside her whispered. Dangerous… but home. Kael slowed the G-Wagon as the tall ironwood trees parted, revealing the hidden valley where the Dravens lived. Torches glowed along the walls, casting a warm amber light in the dusk. Smoke rose from chimneys. Laughter echoed faintly.

The truth, whatever his level of involvement, was coming out of him one way or another. I drove us down Montana Creek Road, the nearest outlet into the wilderness. To illustrate how appropriate that word, ‘wilderness’, when Felicia, Kristin, and I first moved to Juneau, a repairman I was quizzing about the local hiking opportunities gave me this advice about Montana Creek: “I wouldn’t go back there without bear mace.” I doubted bears would concern my jock passenger too much, but the seclusion was a different matter. To his credit, he did muster up the courage about halfway along the three-mile stretch of weather-battered road to ask where I was taking him. It might as well have been a rhetor

, Alden spoke in a low tone. On the road, the atmosphere in the car was extremely dull. No one spoke. From time to time, the driver carefully glanced toward the back seat. Even a blind person could perceive that the atmosphere was wrong now. The driver drove silently all the way to the gate of the community area. Once he reached the destination, he felt a little relaxed. Alden saw the two big and bold letters carved on the hoarding "T-Rex Hills" in the neighborhood. He hurriedly said to the driver, "Please stop the car here"

RSS 23 The address on the cream envelope felt heavy in my hand, not like paper, but like a stone. Eleanor Vance. 214 Crestview Lane. The arts district. The driver didn’t speak, and I was grateful. My mind was a roaring static, replaying that sliver of a child’s smile from the hidden photo, the shattered look on Luther’s face in the library.

“But we can make them expensive.” Rowan’s shoulder brushed hers again, deliberate and steady. Gabriel looked toward the trees, then the convoy, then Tessa. “Where do you want us?” Tessa pointed ahead, where the maintenance road narrowed into a darker cut between firs. “There’s a deer trail below the track. Muddy, but hidden. It leads to the western drainage shelf. Once we reach the stone culvert marker, no one speaks above a whisper.” Dean raised a hand. “Before we begin our silent march toward the monster-managed wall, I want to say I hate all of this with consistency and depth.”

A moment later, the engine came to life, and we pulled out of the garage. Soft music drifted quietly through the car as we drove down the road. Neither of us spoke. I wasn't exactly eager to start a conversation either. No… I'll pass. So, I stayed quiet and looked out the window instead. About twenty-five minutes later, or maybe more, Kael turned at a large intersection, and enormous gates appeared ahead. I sat up straighter. The sign above the entrance read: Silver Creek Wildlife and Recreation Center My eyes widened. The place was huge. The grounds stretched far beyond what I could immediately see.