The Dream
Running through the forest. Dead of night. They're hot on Ky's trail.
Sweating hard and breathing deep, the pursued teen dashes hard between trunks and brambles. Ky trips over root in the darkness and lands expertly so to not cause injury on the sword at waist. The teen rolls over and springs back up while drawing the humble yet sturdy sword.
Where are they? Ky dares the darkness to reveal the enemy. They will go down, nothing can stop me.
Turning in circles, lost in the heavy black of night, the forest quiets. From the wind in the trees to the whisper of silence, there is no sound. No, nothing like that, this is a dead silence, one that chills the bone.
Where are they?
Suddenly the darkness closes around, piercing the soft glow of the moonlight. It tightens, it squeezes, it strangles. Ky looks for the light. The gentle sweetness of the moon the comforting sharpness of a star, but nothing. Nothing can be seen.
It closes in. It hurts. Ky can't escape; there is no light. Ky cannot breath, cannot stop it. It's too late.