Into the darkness

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Into the darkness
As the cold wind wraps around me in a blanket I try to disappear further and further into the damp muddy woods. I step on a twig causing a loud sharp snap to ring through the pine trees. I stop and turn around, making sure nobody heard me. When I begin walking again I hear the bushes move. I turn around starring at them but they are as silent as the night. Just then they rustle again and I pull my small kitchen knife from my pocket. Stepping closer I feel my hands begin to tremble and my breaths are small and quick. It’s so silent I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I am now mere feet from the bushes. Suddenly a figure emerges; standing directly in front of me is my own father grasping his small handgun. He points it at my face which is dripping with cold sweat. I close my eyes wishing the night away that everything happened.
I open my eyes to see that the figure has disappeared. I tell myself it was only a shadow. I turn around and run as fast as my feet can take me. I only stop when I am chilled to the bone and gasping for air. Flashbacks of that day threaten my thoughts again and I hastily push them away, hoping that I will never have to relive that day. Gazing around the silent wood I see hollow log calling my name. I quickly dash inside and pull moversizeed sweatshirt around my frail body. The log is damp from the recent rain and a stream of moonlight shines on my face. I scoot further down so I will not be seen and cry myself to sleep.

When I wake, I see that the moonlight was no longer there and instead it is replaced by sunlight. I poke my head out checking for anyone, before coming out of what I thought is the only place that is safe. As I scoot out of the log I double check for anyone. The air is warmer than last night and it seems nice outside. When the whole forest is finally in my view, I begin to feel that something is very wrong. Eyes, I feel eyes watching me. In the trees? I think so. I allow myself to gaze into the sky only to see that it’s just my over active imagination.

I pick up my bag and I begin running to the middle of the forest so I won’t be found. I constantly look behind me to make sure no one is following. By the time I reach the clearing I’m out of breath and in need of a rest. But I barely have time to get my bearings because I hear a gun shot. I hear the bullet fly right past my ear and I whip around and I’m face to face with my own father. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”





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