Crisp autumn air cut into her lungs as she ran down the hill through the woods. The road was just there, just on the other side of those trees. A few more yards and she would be safe. Each footfall jarred and shook through her whole body with a ferocity that made her teeth chatter. She was Varsity Track, so she was used to running. But this was different. This was not a graceful cross country race, this was a flight of terror. A race for survival. She didn’t have to turn to know that the man with the hatchet was right behind her.
She burst through the trees and saw two boys standing by a roadside marker. Her throat tightened as she tried to yell for help, but it was no use, she had no breath in her to call out. Stumbling back into a run she thrusted herself towards the two boys. Panic rose as she could hear the man again, laughing as he ran after her, crashing recklessly through the underbrush.
Her raw bare feet, cut, bleeding and bruised from the sharp sticks and twigs of the forest, slapped against the street. She felt the man’s hand claw at the back of her blouse, the hatchet shearing through the air above her head. She tumbled down against the pavement at the two boys’ feet. She looked up, dumbfounded at their lack of interest. They just stood staring at the marker.
She turned, looked at the marker, and started to cry.
“That’s where she died,” she overheard the older boy explain. “Exactly 12 years ago on Halloween night. If you listen close, they say you can still hear her crying ghost as she runs through the forest from the Killer in the Woods.”
About the Writer
C Wilson Trull is an aspiring writer of Horror and the macabre. Strongly influenced by Lumley, Barker, and King, he strives to chill his readers through his blog.
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