I run.
I run through the trees. I run through the bushes. I run, and run, and run. I keep running. I pass the bushes and through the empty field. I keep running, trying not to look back.
I find some other bushes at the end of the field. I wave my hands around, to keep the bushes out of my way. I run, and run…until I reach a burned cottage.
I run through the opened door. I look around at the empty and dark room. There’s a trap door in the middle of the room. I open it and jump inside. I close the door and hide.
It’s cold and small. It’s dark and quiet. I can only hear my heart beat. And I can only hear myself breathing hard…exhausted from running. I hold my breath the minute I hear footsteps on the floor above me.
He’s here.
(DeeWardani-Agustus2005)
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