Flash Fiction

Running

She hated this part of the woods. It was cold and mucky, and the trees seemed to close in around her from all sides. Still, she kept moving, her bare feet finding the spots along the path that were dry. Looking behind her, she couldn’t see him anymore. She wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but she could still hear the twigs snapping, and she knew she had to keep going.

Her breaths were coming ragged now, but she willed herself to keep going. It wasn’t that much further until the woods ended. At least she hoped so.

All of a sudden, she noticed the absence of snapping twigs. She stopped, listening intently for breathing. She heard a wood-pecker continuing his rhythmic pecking, unfazed by the actions below, but apart from that there was silence.

She took a deep breath, trying not to scream in horror. Where could he be? He couldn’t be that far off. She had heard him coming after her.

Her eyes jumped across the terrain, looking for any sign of movement.

Out of nowhere, he suddenly sprung at her from behind. Caught unaware, she was knocked to the ground.

Her eyes widened when she saw the gun in his shaking hand, then felt it against her temple.

A loud bang made the world stop spinning. But instead of black, all she saw was red.

Then she tasted his blood and realised in a daze that she was still alive.

© 2017

Image from free photo stock pixabay.com

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