She's running.
Where? No idea. No thoughts except, RUN, and it's not just her thinking it, she can hear it. Someone's shouting it. A man—he's familiar, who is he? She doesn't know him, she knows him. He's. He's. She can't remember, it's been so long, she doesn't remember.
Run.
Run.
RUN
"Run for your life."
It was an awful lot of running, and she was tired, so tired, can't she just stop for a moment and sleep? Her step falters and she starts to slow.
"Run for your life."
It's a man, and a woman, both so old, and so many voices she knows but doesn't know. Men and women, children and elderly, the voices of millions of shades she can't quite grasp. There is an overwhelming feeling that she doesn't understand, because it's ancient and alien—also familiar, why can't she remember where she felt it before?—and she doesn't know who they are, but she listens.
She keeps running.
It's dark and damp, and she can't see a thing, not even the path. She can feel it underneath her shoes, solid and hard. The air around her—is it even air? It's thick and humid, and tastes like…bananas? in her mouth. She's moving through a thick, impenetrable black fog, it's pressing back on her.
It's alive. The darkness is fucking alive. That doesn't bother her as much as she knows it should. It isn't even really a surprise, for some reason. Somehow, she already knew. The darkness that surrounds her-she knows what it is. She recognizes it. But, she can't name it.
A deep growl reverberates through the dark, straight into her bones and soul. It's deep and ancient, and older than anything she's ever encountered. Older than Him. Older than Her. It frightens her. And then she knows:
There's something in the dark.
And it's coming for her.
oOoOoOo
I regret nothing.
I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You asked me to update soon, remember?