PURSUIT OF FEAR

The howling echoed through the dark woods. My instincts took over, and I got back to my feet, moving on again. Surely this must be hell. The woods were almost completely black and dark brooding clouds obscured Luna's buoyant illumination. The night air was icy cold and steam rose from my mouth with every exhausting breath.

I ran blindly, twisting and turning through the dense foliage and overhanging branches. The giant red wood pines towered above, creating a dark canopy through which very little light passed. I faltered, tripping on a fallen branch, and collapsing heavily to the ground. My ankle throbbed with a profoundly intense pain that seemed to overcome my entire body. My limbs ached as I lay prone on the damp forest bed, gasping for breath.

The woods, normally noisy even this late in the evening, were silent but for the panting growls of my bestial pursuers. A feeling of dread passed over me. Please God, don't let them see me, I thought. The sound of my pursuers was starting to drive me crazy.

Then it became visible through the trees. An old dilapidated woodcutters cabin, nestled between the looming pines. With painful exertion I pulled myself to my feet and, frustrated and tired I struggled toward the log cabin.

I ran, stumbling toward my salvation. I could almost feel their frustration as they hunted for me. They were close, so close I could almost feel their heavy breath on the back of my neck. I reached the cabin and collapsed against the door, my franticly shaking hands clumsily groping for the handle. I thanked the Lord in heaven as the door swung open, and without hesitation I threw myself into the pitch black room and slammed the door behind me.

Suddenly I was alone in the complete and total darkness of the cabin. I groped around in the debris until I found an old broken chair which I hastily used to barricade myself inside the room. Overcome by terror I slumped into the corner of the room, melding with the darkness. My thoughts became an endless stream of prayer that focused on surviving the next few hours. I struggled to suppress my heart-beat, fearing even that little sound might well give away my position. I just huddled, not breathing, not moving, just waiting them out.

It started quietly. A slight scratching sound on the door. As it became louder, so the terror inside me increased. Gnarled feral claws scraping at the door, louder and louder, fierce and savage. I could hear the wood pealing off the frame and I could feel a presence that was both evil and terrifying. I was overcome with dread, huddling silently in the dark, praying for the rise of the Sun.

The purging rays of Sol poured through the cabins only window. Slowly I gathered the courage to rise from my corner. All my willpower was spent in those final hours of trepidation, the scratching on the door, firmly etched into my being. But nothing could prepare me for the absolute horror I felt when I found that the scratch marks on the door were on the inside..........

By David Galovic aka Wizz_Kidd