Running? Hiding? No Use…
She's running. She keeps running, but she knows at some point she will have to stop and when she stops they will catch her.
Her name is Kristy. She is 11 years old. She is alone on Halloween night, well…she was alone. Now someone or something is chasing her. She runs, not looking back. She constantly brushes back her chestnut bangs. She listens to her footsteps crunching on the cold forest ground, and then listens to footsteps of the follower, echoing her own footsteps. She begins to slow down slightly. She is growing out of breathe. She begins to fade into her own thoughts…" I have to turn to see who this person is, then I'll make a quick dash round a corner!" she arrives in reality again and, as she planned, turns. In the darkness she can only make out a tall, dark, male figure, wearing a long rain coat and navy blue fedora hat. She sees him pull something out of his pocket, which gleams in the small beams of moonlight through the motionless trees. It a gun! It could be nothing else! She turns round a corner, in desperation to get away from the gun.
She spots a clearing in the distance. Her heart finally contains hope, but it disappears when she sees that in the clearing there is only an old run down house, which looks like it has lost a battle with a tornado. She has no other option. She can hear his breathe leaking out of his lungs. She stumbles over planks of rotting wood and through a space in the wall, where the front door should have been. She only takes 3 seconds to notice dusty paintings scattered across the floor, tattered rugs underneath, doors stripped of varnish and, well… cleanliness. She looks to the right to see a door (any door would do, but it was the closest) she dashes for it, not wasting a second. She closes the door quietly, but not at all gently. She peers through a rusty key hole, not noticing she was in a dark closet.
She hears his heavy, laced boots clump into the old house. She holds her breathe. She reaches into her thoughts. She realizes she was safer when she was running, because now he has her trapped. She cannot leave. She is certain she will die and she wants to know when.
She hears his heavy boots clump to the exit. She lets out a small, almost silent sigh of relief. That sigh, that one small noise catches his attention. His footsteps are no longer fading away, now they are drawing nearer. She covers her mouth in disbelief. The door creaks open. She sees a pale face and coal black sunglasses. She notices nothing more. She uses her eyes to plead for mercy, for she is so petrified she can't speak. He pulls his black gun to her forehead. "Bang!" she falls to the ground, a reddish black circle engraved in her forehead, cold, no longer alive, in the silence of the night…