The Spark

A chill wind blew across the gas station lot as Jack pulled out his phone, relieved to see he still had a signal. He was deep in the countryside and there were some final phone calls to make before heading into the true no-man's land of the mountains. He pulled up his calling app, switched to his address book and tapped on the entry for his agent.

As he waited for an answer, Jack paced about. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before putting his spare hand in his pocket to conserve warmth. The sweater and jacket he was wearing had served him well so far, but he would need to put on a heavier coat before continuing. It would only grow colder as the roads elevated.

His short, dark blonde hair waved in the breeze as his deep blue eyes peered into the distance. The accomplished writer was in his late thirties, yet he didn't have the typical writer's body. He'd managed to stay relatively fit, partnering his long sessions at the keyboard with regular visits to the gym. Jack did mostly cardio and light weights, which kept him trim, healthy and vibrant.

After several rings, a deep, familiar feminine voice spoke into his ear.

"Jack! I wasn't sure I'd hear from you again before your disappearing act. How's my favorite author?"

"Doing fine, Margo. Just thought I'd check in before I get out of cell range."

"About to head into the mountains?"

"Yep. I just gassed up. Taking off as soon as I make a few calls."

"Got everything you need?"

"I think so."

"You know how cold it is up there, right? Did you bring enough warm clothes? Oh, and food! I told you they only serve breakfast, didn't I?"

"What are you, my mother? Yeah, I read the website before booking the trip. I got clothes and enough staples to last me a while."

"A while? What if it's not enough?"

"Then I'll make a trip down to get more food. This gas station has plenty of stuff."

"Ugh... I can see the headline now. Famed Author Dies of Food Poisoning!"

"Oh, stop it. And I'm not that famous."

"You're my biggest client, so please be careful."

"I will. Look, can you do something for me while I'm gone?"

"What do you need?"

"Give Emily a call now and then. You know how she gets when I'm away."

"Sure. I'll check in on her, but it's you she wants to hear from."

"I'm calling her next. I'll be in touch when I can, but once I get the spark back, you might not hear from me for a while. Assuming I get it, that is."

"Of course you will. You always do. I'm sure your mojo is waiting in the mountains."

"Thanks, Margo. For everything. I'll see you next month. Hopefully with a first draft in hand."

"You'd better" she quipped playfully. "You're welcome. Enjoy your getaway, Jack. Call me if you need anything."

"Will do."

He smiled and ended the call. With a quick scroll through his contact list, he found his wife and tapped her name. Jack raised the phone back to his ear and looked to the horizon. He admired the towering mountain peaks in the distance. The phone on the other end rang only twice before being answered.

"Hello? Jack?!?"

"Hey beautiful."

"I'm so glad you called! Did you get my text with the weather update? They say it's definitely going to snow in the higher elevations where you're headed. It's making me nervous. Is everything OK?"

"Yes, I got the text. Everything's fine. I'm about to head up. Won't have any service on the mountain. Just the phone at the B&B. How are you this anxious already? I've only been gone a few hours."

"You know how. I worry because I love you. And I'm already missing you..."

"I love you too, honey. I'm sorry I have to do this again, but you know how it is. This is my process. When the juices aren't flowing, I gotta get away for a while."

"I know. I just wish you had picked somewhere less out of the way."

"It looked perfect on the website. Margo talked to the owner before recommending it. Apparently. the lady who runs the place is a big fan. She cleared the calendar just for me."

"A fan? Why didn't you mention that before?!?"

"Relax. I'm sure it'll be fine. If I get Annie Wilkes vibes, I'll head right back, I promise."

Emily let out an exhausted sigh. "Don't even joke about that! And be careful on those roads! Go slow, especially if it's snowing."

"Of course. This jeep is kitted out for the mountains, so I should be good to go."

"Call me as soon as you get there."

"As soon as I'm there and settled in, I will."

"Okay... I love you!"

"Love you too, babe. These trips always fly by. I'll be back before you know it."

* * * * *

A half hour dragged by as Jack drove up cold, gray roads with increasingly worn markings. The yellow and white lines had been painted so long ago, they were barely visible for long stretches. As he headed into the higher elevations, it was easy to see why the road got so little attention. There was no traffic. It seemed almost no one drove into this barren country.

And why would they? There was no ski resort at the end of this long, twisting highway. No grand view or famous hunting ground. Just a cozy bed & breakfast and endless wilderness atop a thoroughly ordinary, yet somewhat precarious mountain range. There was nothing else for dozens of miles if the pictures and maps online were accurate.

The road and the weather grew increasingly treacherous the farther Jack drove. He reduced speed as gusting snow flew at the windshield and the path's sharp turns took more skill to navigate. The radio, his only companion on the drive, grew fuzzy and began to fade in and out between bursts of jarring static. He cursed and killed the broadcast. He was left with nothing but the howling wind, the swish-swish of window wipers and the purring engine of the rented Jeep Grand Cherokee in his ears.

The half hour of driving stretched into an hour and beyond. Jack grew increasingly frustrated as the weather grew even worse. The online map had implied the drive should take only forty minutes. The gas attendant said it might be an hour if the weather was bad. He was well past that now.

Just as he was beginning to entertain the idea of turning around, the snowfall thinned and began to clear up. He emerged at the highest point on the lonesome road, which grew increasingly slender and narrowed into one big lane. The light of day shone through the clouds and illuminated the snow into an almost blinding white.

After several more turns, Jack saw his destination in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. A thin column of smoke rose from a large chimney into the crisp mountain air. The large, two story building stood out prominently from the half-frozen trees and blankets of fresh white powder. The SUV labored up the cold, muddy trail, completing its long journey and crunching to a stop just before the building's entrance.

A set of stone stairs led up to the establishment's long wrap-around porch. A large sign hung over the entrance proclaiming the estate's name boldly: 'HECATE HEIGHTS.' Mounted on the support beams leading up to the sign were two iron-framed, glass enclosed wall sconces that lit up brightly with three bulbs each. Even in the light of day, they shined like bright torches.

'Finally...'

Jack killed the engine and stepped out of the vehicle. He shivered instantly, bristling at how much colder it was on the mountain than where he'd been eighty minutes ago. He opened the side door and back hatch, pulling out several pieces of his luggage. Just as he was loading himself up, he heard a door open and the sound of boots clomping across the porch.

He looked up to see a woman in a long, black leather trench coat descending the staircase. Its color was matched by her shoulder-length hair, leather pants and the shiny boots that covered her feet and trailed up her toned calves. Jack's brow lifted and his eyes grew as big as silver dollars as he got his first glance at the owner. The cowgirl hat aside, she looked like she'd just stepped off the set of The Matrix.

"Hello!" she said with a wave and a smile. The surprisingly tall woman strode around the vehicle and directly to his side. Even in riding boots with only one inch heels, she almost matched his height. "Mr. Fleming?" she asked, holding out her hand. "It's a real honor."

He nodded and shook her still-warm glove. The woman's leathery grip closed around his bare palm with impressive strength. It took him by surprise, but he played it cool. "Please, call me Jack. You must be Ms. Doyle?"

"Wendy" she replied with a beaming grin, confirming their mutual discard of formalities. "Can I help carry in your things?"

Jack was about to decline, but stopped before making a fool of himself. Dismissing his hostess, a woman who was accustomed to a much heartier mountain life than he was, would be silly. Nor did he particularly want to make three or four trips back into the cold. Instead, he stood aside and gestured to the remaining boxes and bags.

"By all means. Thank you."

"My pleasure" she purred. Within seconds Wendy was leaning into the jeep and loading herself up. "After this, you'll need to pull around and park by my vehicle. I'll plug in your block heater."

"Ah, yes. The rental agent mentioned I might need it. It gets that cold up here?"

"The temperature dips very low at night" she explained. "Without the heater, there's no guarantee your engine would start up again." Wendy offered him a toothy grin. "Wouldn't want that to happen."

* * * * *

The fireplace roared as Jack sat and observed his surroundings. The lobby of the B&B looked much like a hunting lodge. There was lots of wooden furniture, animal furs, a few trophies mounted on the walls and a stonework chess set sitting on a barrel between two empty rocking chairs. The only thing that looked out of place was Wendy.

Now that she'd taken off her long leather duster and hat, she looked more like some kind of goth fetish model. She sat opposite him, her arms and midriff bare as a shiny halter top rounded out her full leather attire. Jack found it difficult to place her age. She had the bearing and confidence of an older woman, but if she was older than him, she looked amazing for her age.

Buxom curves filled out her gripping leather ensemble. Thick thighs, an hourglass waist and well toned arms spoke to a woman who got plenty of exercise in the thin air of the mountains. Her bright green eyes shimmered in the light of the fire. Jack found himself gawking at her, in spite of himself.

He sipped his coffee before nodding thankfully and setting it down on the table between them. She drank deeply of her own cup and smiled wide, staring back at him.

"I still can't believe you're here. You probably get this a lot, but I'm your biggest fan."

"Oh- Thank you! That's very kind."

"I mean it! I love everything about your books, but especially the way you write women."

Jack chuckled. "Well, that's certainly nice to hear, since I'm often criticized for that very thing."

Wendy waved her hand dismissively. "To hell with your critics. You write strong, confident women who know what they want and take it. Your novels have been a great inspiration to me."

Jack couldn't help but blush. "You flatter me."

Wendy set her cup down before reaching over to a book shelf next to her seat. She pulled a well-read hardback from a row of books and brought it forward. She turned the tome around and handed it to Jack along with a ballpoint pen. It was a copy of one of his earlier works: 'Prison of Silence.'

"I'd love an autograph. If it's not too much trouble."

Jack grinned and accepted them gladly. "Of course! I know just how to dedicate it."

He opened to the title page, clicked the pen and began scribbling away. Within moments it was done and he handed it back to Wendy. She opened the book with wide eyes and read it eagerly.

'To my biggest fan!

Thank you, Wendy, for your wonderful hospitality.

Your favorite client,

Jack Fleming'

She closed the cover with a light thud and pressed the hardcover to her bosom. "Thank you so much! I will treasure this for the rest of my life!"

Jacked nodded. "You're very welcome."

Wendy set the book aside, lifted her mug and took another sip of the warm brew. "So, you're here to work on something new, right?"

"That's the plan. Sometimes, when the words aren't flowing, I need to find somewhere to recapture the spark. Somewhere with as few distractions as possible. Hecate Heights seemed like a perfect candidate."

"Oh, this is definitely the perfect place. I bought it for the same reason. You can do anything up here with no distractions. You won't regret choosing it."

"Interesting name, by the way. Hecate was a Greek Goddess. A Goddess of the underworld, if I remember my mythology correctly?"

"That's right. She's another inspiration to me. Most of the people who come here don't recognize the name, but I'm not surprised you did."

"If you don't mind me asking, is this bed and breakfast how you make your living? I can't imagine three room rentals in a remote location like this is enough to pay all the bills."

"Oh... No, this is a side hustle. I make most of income through other means. I'm a performer, of sorts."

"A performer? Up here?!?"

"Yes. A content creator. I make videos in my own little studio."

"Ohhhhhhhhh-" Jack replied with a nod, leaning back in his chair. "YouTube, Vimeo and the like?"

"Something like that."

"But how does that work? I was told there's no internet here."

"My method is a little old fashion, but it gets the job done. I record and edit my work, then put it on physical storage and send it by post. I have a tech guru who takes cares of the rest."

Jack nodded thoughtfully before taking a gulp of his drink. "Smart."

"Like you said, no distractions. It allows me to focus on what I love doing. You'll see for yourself, soon."

"That's why I'm here. So, is there anything else I need to know before you show me my room?"

"Yes" she replied. Wendy set her mug down and struck a serious tone. "Breakfast is at 9 AM sharp. You snooze, you lose. Some nights, if I'm in the mood and have the time, I'll make dinner as well, but if I'm not in the kitchen at 6 PM, you're on your own. You're welcome to use the kitchen for your own needs as well."

"No worries, there. I'm no cook. I'd live on Pop Tarts and Chinese takeout if my wife let me. Thankfully, she doesn't."

Wendy snickered before continuing. "If you need to make a call, you can use the phone in the hallway. Your room has its own half-bath, but no shower. The showers here are communal. Normally, you'd have to schedule a time to use them, but it's just you and me, so that won't be necessary."

Jack nodded. "Sounds good. Anything else?"

"Just one thing. My studio is in the basement. Like you, I don't like to be disturbed while I'm working, so that's off limits unless it's an emergency."

"Understood."

"I may have guests over to help me with my videos from time to time, but it's unlikely you'll cross paths."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"We usually shoot at night."

* * * * *

Jack stared at his laptop screen. His elbows lay on the desk and his hands were folded in contemplation. His word processor was open, ready to receive his stream of consciousness. The empty page and blinking cursor stared back at him, mockingly.

Nothing.

There he sat in the simple, comfy guest room. There was a bed, a few furnishings, a nice view of the slowly darkening sunset sky and little else. Wendy had removed the TV from the room before he arrived, as requested. No internet. Nothing to distract him. And yet, the gears refused to turn.

Jack was the author of over a dozen titles, several of which were bestsellers. He was known for his crime thrillers and noir adventures. He'd even dipped his toe in science fiction, with somewhat less success. He'd done this a hundred times. His process was iron clad. After all the preparation and the arduous journey, he'd arrived at the mountain sanctuary that would host his retreat and provide him the seclusion necessary to get back to work.

He reached into the well of his mind and found... bubkis. Zip. Naught but the void.

Jack sighed and leaned back in his chair. He stared at the screen for a few more seconds before reaching out and gently closing the notebook computer. It wasn't happening tonight. Maybe his nerves were still settling after the jarring trip up the mountain. Or perhaps there was one distraction rampaging around his mind in the form of a raven-haired beauty. A voluptuous, confident, take-charge femme with a brilliant smile and legs for days.

Wendy was an impressive woman. Reflecting on it now, it wasn't hard to see why she was a fan. The sole proprietress of Hecate Heights could've been a character straight out of Jack's novels. Bold, assertive, a provocative dresser and unafraid to weather hardships on her own. She couldn't have been more different from Jack's wife.

He looked down at his left hand and studied the wedding band snug on his ring finger. His call with Emily had been brief, but warm. She was relieved to know Jack was safely at his destination. He promised to call her every day, but Wendy insisted that wasn't necessary. She understood his need for privacy to find the spark and rekindle the bonfire of dreams. They'd said 'I love you' several times before hanging up.

No, it wasn't time yet. He needed to rest and clear his mind. The work would begin tomorrow. He'd relax and read tonight, until his body was ready for sleep. Aside from Wendy, his favorite authors would be his only companions in the coming weeks. Sometimes, when the fount of imagination refused to flow, one looked to others for inspiration. If he kept his mind and heart open, Jack was confident the muse would wrap her arms around him soon.

* * * * *

The night munchies struck around ten o'clock. No surprise, since he hadn't eaten much for dinner. Wendy had offered no evening meal for his first night, so Jack had been left to fend for himself. He set his book on the end table, put his shoes back on and exited his room.

He was on his way to the kitchen via the hallway when violent, yet muffled, sounds stopped him in his tracks.

*whhhhppsshhhh*

"Arrrgghhhh!"

"You little shit!"

*whhhhppsshhhh*

"Ahhhhhhh!"

"Take it, you worm!"

Jack could barely make out the words through the basement door. He crept up to the wall and placed his ear to the crack between the door and the frame. The unmistakable sounds of discipline and cries of anguish came through a bit stronger.

*whhhhppsshhhh whhhhppsshhhh whhhhppsshhhh*

"Arrghhh! ARRGGHH!"

"Awww, does it hurt? I'm just getting started you filthy bitch!"

At first he thought she might be watching porn at high volume, as unlikely as that seemed, but he soon confirmed it was Wendy's voice. Jack realized with sudden clarity precisely the kind of content creator Wendy was. She was making videos alright. Hearing the pained responses of the unidentified man, Jack hoped the performance was consensual.

*smack smack smack*

"Squirm you piece of shit!"

It almost definitely was consensual. After all, why would someone drive all the way up here unless they wanted that kind of treatment. Still, Jack's curiosity was beyond piqued. He knew he should turn away, collect his snack and go back to his room, but the allure of illicit sex was powerful. If he didn't get a glimpse of what was going on below, he'd kick himself forever. Hell, this could be the bit of inspiration that launched him down a new literary path. Perhaps Wendy would be one of his characters.