Title: The Return of MacPherson
He ran because they were chasing him; he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, but there was no time to ponder it now.
The man ducked behind a tree and listened to the huffing breath and the hooves galloping past.
He hadn't meant to kill it; it was an accident. It had appeared with a rush in front of him, and he had found the nearest object-a fallen tree branch-and struck the animal. How could he have known that the creature's stunned stumbles would make him think that it was still coming toward him, and that the second blow he aimed at the creature's neck would entangle the branch in a chain around it's neck, and as the animal fell, strangle it?
Now more of them were chasing him; or at least, they had been until he gave them the slip. The man paused to catch his breath-
Then the alarms started; not sirens, but thousands of bells. As if on cue, tiny lights flickered on in the grass nearby. It would only be a manner of seconds before the area in which the man stood would be completely illuminated.
Thrashing wildly, the man took off again. To his terror, the lights followed him! An especially bright flashlight of some sort projected in front of him from below his hand. By this light-wherever it came from, the man did not have time to investigate-the man glimpsed a dark tunnel, a hole in one of the trees. He could hide there till the animals and fight off the lights that now surrounded him.
The man dove straight for the hole...
...and landed in his own hallway. He still wore his pajamas. It was still the middle of the night.
And the lights still floated around him! He dug in his pajama pocket and found the small aerosol canister. Spraying its contents in the air, he extinguished the lights one by one. The man lay on the floor, tired and overwhelmed.
"Come on Doug MacPherson," he slurred to himself, "it's just another dream."
Doug closed his eyes and passed out.