The Woods Hold a Darkness and Revenge Can be a Brutal Game.

Step into a world of heart-pounding suspense and prepare to be consumed by the hunt for justice in the face of relentless danger.

The dense canopy of the sprawling nature preserve swallows the sunlight, casting long shadows that conceal a darkness. Whispers of disappearances have become a chilling reality. Looking for answers to her own brutal attack, Sloane Mackenzie stumbles upon a hidden clearing littered with the skeletal remains of his victims. Dubbed “The Woodsman” by the media, the killer sets his sights on someone close to Sloane in retaliation for her actions.

In order to stop The Woodsman, Sloane must shed the cloak of the victim and embrace the role of the hunter. The line between predator and prey blurs as Sloane delves deeper into his twisted game, the woods tightening around her with each step. Can she stop the madman before he claims another life, or will the cycle of violence consume her completely?

“I Left Shadows in the Woods” is a relentless first-person thriller that weaves through the chilling heart of vengeance. Dive into a gripping tale of survival, where Sloane becomes the hunter in her pursuit of justice.

1

These woods have always been my sanctuary, my safe space. They were where I went to get away from everything and everyone. I ran here to escape my problems. My ex-husband, my family, my career. I ran here to deal with the end of yet another bad break-up. I loved listening to the birds chirping in the tree canopy. The feel of the air against my skin just after the rain. The majestic beauty of the deer hiding in the woods and poking their heads out from behind the trees as I jogged past. They didn’t judge if my breath was laboured or if I ran slowly when I tried to think my way out of something.

I even enjoyed seeing some of the other runners, hikers, bird watchers and families who regularly visited the nature preserve. There was PJ, or that was what I thought of her as since she would amble through the woods in her pyjamas and gown, wearing crocks instead of hiking shoes or trail running sneakers. There were the rugby boys who ran as one unit behind their coach. Then there was the running duo, a married couple who were super fit and seemed to be working on their marriage by trying to outrun each other on the trail. Then there was the striped shirt guy who always wore the same red and white striped shirt every Saturday morning and did two loops around the park.   

We knew each other by sight. Even though we didn’t know each other’s names or have any conversations, we would greet and make way for each other to get past on the narrow trail. It was all so cordial, so civilised. It was so easy to forget that there were predators in the world stalking their prey.

I don’t remember much from that morning when he shattered my world. I remember stopping to admire the doe and her fawn crossing the trail. I remember the sound of the river trickling over the rocks. I remember the sound of the twig snapping. I remember seeing the rock held by a large, gloved hand and then nothing.

I remember waking up covered by branches and my clothes torn. I remember the pain and the blood on the leaves. I remember crawling out of what had been my safe haven and his hunting ground.

I don’t remember who found me. I was told the security guard at the gate had come looking for me when my car was the only one left in the parking lot at closing time. He tried calling my cell number, which he’d taken down that morning when I entered the preserve, and when there’d been no answer, he came looking. He found me unconscious two kilometres from the main gate. No one knew where he’d attacked me. None of the other visitors to the preserve had seen or heard anything. The afternoon rain had washed my blood and any sign of him away.

My friends and family kept telling me that I’d shown great strength to crawl as far as I had, as though it was some badge of honour. They kept saying things like how lucky I was that I’d survived and that at least he used a condom. It could all have been so much worse. I know they were trying to process what had happened to me in their own way. They meant well. Their platitudes only served to make me angrier. No one should be happy merely to have survived an attack. It should never have happened to me in the first place.

They don’t understand how much he took from me that day. He didn’t just violate my body; he invaded every part of my life; every conversation and every look from someone in my life had his presence etched into it. Cuts and bruises might have begun to heal, but every time I saw the pity and discomfort in their eyes, I felt that rock hitting me again and again, and I had to crawl out of the forest once more. They would never see me the same way again, but I wasn’t the same woman who had entered the woods that day. 

The cops had no clue who he was or how he got on to the preserve. It’s a large area, and he could have gotten in through any gap in the fence. They didn’t think he had entered via the main gate because they checked the men who had entered and whose details had been taken down by the guard when they arrived. However, there have been a few occasions when I’ve entered without having to sign in with the guard because he was off having a bathroom break, and the Parks Board doesn’t have the manpower or the budget to have more guards stationed at the gate. So, they can’t be sure how he got in, and he didn’t leave any physical evidence behind on my body.  

With the high crime rate in the city, the lack of evidence, and the fact that I couldn’t identify my attacker, the case ended up at the bottom of a very high pile. The investigator assigned to the case gave me his card, but I soon forgot his name. Not that I’d been capable of paying much attention when he introduced himself when he visited me in the hospital to take my statement, but he subtly let me know there wasn’t much hope. He was polite about it and managed my expectations. He also let me know I wasn’t the only victim. Some of the others weren’t as lucky as me. One girl died of exposure. Her body had been found on the other side of the park, close to the river, a few days after she’d gone missing. Another committed suicide a few months after she’d been attacked. I could tell the investigator felt bad, but there wasn’t much he could do for me or the other women, especially with a city full of other predators whom he might have a better chance of catching.

No matter what my family and friends said, I was alone. They hadn’t experienced what I had. They wanted me to move on, heal, and get over it. I survived, and they wanted or needed me to act like it. They wanted me to put a smile on my face and pretend for them, but I couldn’t.

My mother insisted I see a therapist the moment I got out of the hospital. The therapist wanted me to join a survivor’s group so I could talk to other women who had been through what I’ve been through, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted it not to have happened to me, but that’s impossible. I wanted the police to find him and punish him, but they couldn’t seem to do that either. I wanted to run in the preserve without screaming whenever a twig snapped, or I heard a man’s voice. I wanted not to be afraid anymore, but as long as he was out there without a name and a face, I would never be able to live without that fear.

I tried running on the streets of my neighbourhood, but it wasn’t the same as running in the woods, and I hated it. I kept running even though every part of my body hurt. I ran on the streets because I couldn’t let him take that away from me as well. I went to the boxing gym up the road from my apartment so I could kick and punch something and imagine the bag was the man who did this to me. I ignored the stares from the people who couldn’t take their eyes off my bruised face. I did pushups in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep, and I had this rage inside me that I couldn’t get rid of. I could only sleep when I was too exhausted to think; only then did the nightmares leave me in peace.

Get I Left Shadows in the Woods