Friday, 20 May 2016

A Journey of Sorts

She woke, in the cold and the dark, alone.

He fell, the cold wind whipping past his face, slipping from consciousness.

She stirred, stretching, shaking the sleep from her numb limbs.

He couldn't move, pulled ever down by an unseen force, down, down.

She smiled, sadly, as she walked on through the misty woods.

His mind broke into frenzied fear, suddenly fully conscious, too fast, too fast.

She shivered, the cold mist brushed against her bare arms, cold, so cold.

He opened his mouth, tried to scream, but the wind stole his voice away.

She started, a noise in the gloom.

Where are you?

Which way?

Too many paths.

'I am going to my death.'

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