In the corner of my eye I can see a shadowy form following me but, like a nightmare, every time I look back there’s nothing. Well, nothing except a couple of strangers waiting at a bus stop, ready to head home. Home. Home isn’t safe.
The figure is coming closer. I break into a run. I’m sprinting down the road, desperate to find… what? What am I looking for? There’s nothing. I shake my head. Life. I want it. Life, laughter, joy. Perhaps it can shake off this stalker.
I can hear a whisper “Come. I’ve waited. Watched. Listened. You’re ready”.
No matter how fast I am running, I can’t escape the darkness of winter as it begins to envelop me. It’s… scary. Really scary. For the first time in my life, I don’t understand what’s happening.
Family. My parents. Last year’s holiday to France. If I’m going to die I’m going to die happy. Strange. The more I am focussing on this, slipping away from reality, the warmer I feel inside. It’s like the cold can just leave whenever it wishes. I wish I could do that.
It’s been what feels like an eternity. I stopped running a long time ago I guess. My breathing has returned to normal. I’m surprised I didn’t die whilst running. Not being athletic in any way hasn’t helped in this situation. Any other time I try to run I normally feel like I’m going to pass out as soon as I start.
I finally open my eyes. Here I am. Standing in the middle of the street like a weirdo. Looking at my surroundings. I notice that I am a few streets down from my house. Makes sense. I had doubted I could run that far. It’s not far enough. 19:32. About 15 minutes have passed. People are staring. I don’t blame them. I must look like a total mess. Not that I care anymore. All that matters is that I don’t die. Or at least that’s what I think should matter. The demonic laughing starts up again.