Hey!
I worked on a watercolour painting on Wednesday so today, decided to try writing a story based on the painting. Picture’s in B/W cos my paint strokes are terrible and they look better this way!
Enjoy!

Quarter Past 11

IMG_20130306_172704-1_Logan

She did not mean to stay out this late.

There had been wine, music, food; she had lost track of time. She had promised she’d be home before 11. It was quarter past 11!

Harried, she walked out into the rain, cursing as she rifled through her bag for her little umbrella. The rain in savage glee increased, mercilessly lashing at her for her tardiness, plastering her clothes to her skin as she finally found and opened her umbrella.

Shivering and with alacrity, she ran, deciding to use the shorter route home. Normally she’d have been wary of using the bush path at night but between her irrational fear of large expanse of trees and the thunderous rage that would be her father when she got home, she decided to let the Devil take the hindmost and leg it.

Thankful for the flat shoes she wore, she ran until she was swallowed in by the trees.

Despite the fact that she was late, she unconsciously slowed to a walk as she traversed the narrow path. Gently, as if the slightest breaking of a twig would unsettle the atmosphere, she crept through.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her ears cocked and she turned around to stare at the gathering darkness behind her. Her heart hit her ribcage hard, as if begging to be let out. Fear of he father forgotten, she began to wonder if taking this particular route wasn’t a foolhardy thing to do.

She walked faster, stopping momentarily to stare quickly behind her. She didn’t even have any light and her phone was dead.

Only the stay rays of the moonlight that managed to penetrate though the dense foliage lighted her path and they did so badly.

There!

She heard it again.

She stopped as her blood roared in her ears raging like lions in a burning cage.

Footsteps. She was not mistaken.

Basic instincts screamed at her and she obeyed without thinking; she ran.

Her hands shook as she held the umbrella, panting as her feet slapped wet earth with dull thwacks.

Almost out of the bushes, she laughed shakily in triumph and exhilaration.

She heard no footsteps. She stopped to take deep breaths. What if she had imagined the footsteps?

She laughed and shook her head, walking at a normal pace, her ears still listening for sudden movements.

As she walked, she realised how heavy her limbs were;  almost as if she was carrying a heavy load on her back.

She blamed it on her unfit body and mentally promised to run more.

“Who’rrree you?”

A small voice suddenly asked, close behind.

She shrieked and turned about panicked. She saw no one.

“Who…who’s there?” She called out, eyes wide as clammy hands tightened their grip on her umbrella.

“How ccccould yooou not noticccce?” The small voice whispered into her ear. “You’ve beeeeen carrying me on your baaaack sincccce you walked intoooo myyyy forrressst…”

A cold tongue licked her ear.

Blood curdling scream.

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