His little nightmare

Running.
Dirty leaves kick up behind me and mud splashes the back of my ankles. My breath comes out in erratic spurts. My hearts galloping, in tune with the thud of my feet on the ground. I chance a glance over my shoulder, seeing only darkness but knowing he's there. Sure enough, he calls for me.
'Serenity'.
I force down the urge to vomit from disgust and fear. He's coming for me and I know he'll find me. He always finds me.
I stumble over a moss covered log and sprawl in the mud, my left ankle shooting pain throughout my body as I try to get up. I'm gasping for breath as I hear a twig snap. I still and turn towards the noise. He's here, he's found me again.
My mind plays out a series of clips from the last decade: me in a small diner outside Cleveland: me in a dance club with close friends: me in my bedroom trying on an expensive dress: my broken body laying on the floor: me in the hospital healing from surgery: me speaking to an officer: me running from the boogyman..
Just like I am now.
All of my past couldn't have prepared me for this: death.

Reviews

[Write Cat]

When I read this I was in awe!!! The scene of someone running and not getting away is familiar because I also come to write in this setting!! My group Thriller's Critique will be just perfect for you!!