August 3, 1912
2:31 A.M.
Somewhere else
The snapping of twigs and branches broke the silence, a figure tearing through the forest. Breaths are coming out in pants, visible in the crisp air in its misty form. I could hear the growls and the screeching as it draws closer. I’m running as fast as I can. I take a quick glance behind me to try and determine its proximity. To no avail.
I turn my head back to the front just in time to clear a fallen tree in my path, continuing on. It’s hard to see through the smothering darkness. It’s so unnatural. Where does it come from? The lack of moon? The thick trees? And yet I can still see the air escaping my lips. I shake my head to clear my mind. I cannot be distracted. I have to escape.
Falling trees disturb the air, the creature becoming infuriated with my desertion. It wants me to stay. I know it does. But to stay is to give in to the demands of something infernal. So I keep running, faster than before. My nightgown gets snagged and torn by surrounding branches, closing in on me to prevent my departure. My feet are already so cut and bruised, like the rest of my body. And my lungs ache for air that lacks oxygen. I have to get out.
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