As I ran through the network of tunnels snaking beneath the Town Square, my breath quickened. The sound of my heartbeat grew louder, thumping in time with my own heavy footsteps that echoed through the narrow passages.
She was still following me. I could hear her pants amplifying as the distance between us decreased rapidly. Beads of sweat formed below my hairline, spilling down the side of my face, merging with the blood that dripped from the wound situated on my left temple. My short dark hair was now matted with blood, sweat and rain water. The grey tank top I wore was now as moist and torn as the slim fitted jeans that clung to my legs.
The tunnel became narrower and the twists and turns became sharper. I decided to use this to my advantage and came to halt, pressing my back to the cold stone wall. I tried to control my breathing as i steadied the silver blade in my right hand, its handle warm as the cold sharp edge dripped the blood of my previous kill.
I stilled, awaiting the angry Wendigo that had been in pursuit of me since I executed her killing partner. The two of them had taken the appearance of college cheerleaders. Using their appearance to lure in Teenage boys and slaughter them.
The moment she came into view, I swung my arm around to meet her, plunging the knife into her chest. It was just in that moment as I withdrew the blade from her body as it crumpled to the ground, a dull ringing pierced through the tunnels. Then I woke up.
"Casey, get up!" Mom bellowed from the kitchen. I grunted in reply as I reluctantly shuffled out of my bed. Looking at the clock, I could see that I had already slept through two of the three alarms I had set the previous night. Fixing my pyjamas after they had become twisted during the night, I raced down the stairs two at a time and bounded into the kitchen where I was met by my beaming mother and groggy younger brother.
"So what was it this time hun?" My mother asked, pouring milk into a bowl of cornflakes on the table in front of her.
"A pair of Wendigo cheerleaders in Iowa" I replied cheerily, placing two slices of bread into a toaster. My brother grumbled under his breath, although I couldn't make out what he had said, his facial expression made it clear that it wasn't a term of endearment.
"Michael!" Mom scolded.
Michael was twelve, five years younger than myself. I'd always felt sorry for him, it can't have been easy having me for a sister, especially after the kids at school began to tease him for it.
Ever since I was little, I've had a strange obsession with the supernatural. Vampires, Werewolves, Angels, Demons, Shape-shifters, anything out of the ordinary. I would often slip into a lengthy speech about theories of their existence. I would have vivid dreams in which I would capture these creatures or become one of them.
In creative writing classes at school, I would recount these dreams in detail. My teacher, Miss Maddens, use to say that my strong imagination would get me into trouble one day. I used to laugh it off, thinking she was just being cynical. All these years later, it's clear to me now just how right she was.