Quicksand Fans

It was a cold night in the swamp. Sanders wished she had brought something more appropriate, but it was a hot lead and this was her only chance. She had heard of a gang using the inhospitable swamp as a base of operations for their trafficking, and she had to have the scoop. After hours of trudging around in swamp muck, she found the place. It was empty, but if her tip-off was correct, the gang would arrive in an hour. The swamp mud was knee-deep and she had already ruined her boots in her trek. Before long, she heard voices and vehicles. She trudged to a nearby tree and stayed out of sight. Through the darkness, she could make out a group of men carrying crates. They didn't say much while they waited. Muddy, tired, and focused on the gang's movement, Sanders didn't notice the subtle change happening beneath her feet...

The men suddenly stood at attention. A figure wearing shades and a hat appeared among them. Two of his men were busy with one of the crates.

"Hey," he said, "did you find out where that nosy reporter was?"

"Don't worry," said one of the others. "She won't follow us here. The swamp is full of quicksand."

The word made Sanders shiver, but something else did too. Numb from the cold, she didn't feel the mud creep up her legs until it soaked through her skirt. She looked down to see that she was up to her waist in quicksand! The mud was thicker than anything she had been in before, but she couldn't make too much noise unless the men heard her.

"Oh, yeah," the boss figure muttered. "Gotta be careful around that quicksand. There's no getting out."

"One of the boys fell in and sank to his chest. We had to get the truck down here to pull him out. I bet that reporter girl wouldn't stand a chance. She's probably curled up her bed, too scared too come out here."

Sanders was definitely scared. She was already up to her waist. She was slowly, but surely sinking. With the criminals only a few feet away, she kept deathly quiet, but would that be the death of her?

What can I say? I've a weakness for classic set ups.

a worthy heroine, hope to see more of her adventures

I'm loving these short stories you are posting. It is great to see a little story with a picture added, they both really complement each other well adding depth. I'm a guy who likes context, so these are perfect! This here is my favorite of all the ones you've posted recently (I'm gone for a week and I miss a ton, very impressed at how productive you are!). I really like the dialogue about the sinking, with the heroine out of sight but can still hear what is going on and realizing the mistake. I'm enjoying this character, lots of possibilities!

Rusty

This story has a certain element that is very similar to one of my sinking fantasies. I envisioned myself walking off a nature trail into a thick patch of cattails, with known quicksand on the other side (perhaps on a hidden pond's shoreline). After sneaking through the cattails, I step into the thick mud and slowly start to sink. But then, I suddenly have to hold still and motionless while I hear people stopped on the trail just through the cattails, listening to someone (possibly a guide) talking about how deadly and inescapable the quicksand is nearby, perhaps telling stories about it, with the others make sounds of shock, amazement and horror. During that time, I am slowly sinking deeper and deeper, with escape getting more and more difficult, as I wait for them to leave. Some swamp gas farts up around me, and then the people react to it's odor that drifts through the cattails, and then finally leave. I am then finally alone, but have sunk so deep, that I am uncertain if I could escape from it now!