Unfinished for now.

Not really sure what this is exactly. Just sort of a free write.

The only time I had run this far away, was the night my sister had dared me to run and touch the neighbor's gargouille, in the middle of the night. It was a big deal then, we had been taught to never leave the house a after dark, but I drew enjoyment from such rebellious behavior. We were just kids then and new fears had entered our lives since.

Now I ran effortlessly from an unknown figure that had called my name in a threatening hymn. Every ounce of me had been pushing forth to the Lacrosse St. bridge, where I had known homeless men to sleep before, but anything seemed welcoming when compared to the silhouette that had been following me.

I slid with an accidental grace across the concrete ground beneath, due to the fine, excess gravel left by the street sweeps. I caught myself and ducked quickly beneath the bridge. As I sat catching my breath trying to remain silent, I heard the figure draw near. Their footsteps echoed louder and louder in my ears. My chest pounded sporadically and I swallowed the knot in my throat. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped at the edge of the bridge. Gasping and coughing, from the unknown presence, filled the silence and I sat in fear waiting for my demise. However, a sense of an unexplained forgiveness was felt all around and the sound of boots along cobblestone commenced. The sound trailed off and returned from where it had come from and I sat shivering in my old worn out duster.