The path is dark. It winds and twists through a thick forest. The only light to see by is the dim glow from the moon above, hidden behind heavy black clouds. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch fleeting glimpses of movement in the underbrush. I walk faster with each rustle of leaves, each "crack!" of a breaking stick. Soon, I find myself sprinting through the dark forest. With each pound of my feet on the hard ground, I hear the echo of a similar pound behind me. Is it my own feet? Or someone else's? I push the thought away and run faster. The pound of the echoes is getting louder, drawing nearer. Now it's only inches behind me.
That's when I feel it. A hand, cold like granite, gripping my shoulder. I stop in my tracks, skidding to a halt so fast I almost fall over. As panic overcomes me, I try to choke out a scream, but the frozen air around me remains horrifyingly silent. I draw up an ounce of courage and turn to see the face of the icy hand gripping my shoulder(C details 4 rest)
2007-03-13
12:34:18
·
8 answers
·
asked by
panic_l0ve
1