A DEATH & AN ENTRANCE (continued)
…She was drenched to a point where she could no longer tell which parts of her were wet or dry. Then came the first of the irreversible mistakes: a question all humans, one time or another, dazedly ask themselves; normally innocuous but on this day, fatal. Where does dreaming end?
A single hair rose at her nape, banshee to the rest of them, and she fell back on her running pace. Her ears perked at a rustling sound they knew was not the wind, and the girl froze. She sensed there was danger, and it was coming closer – she fancied now that she was not alone. She bolted.
The girl had the legs to out-sprint any stalking shadows if she tried but the overlong predawn continued bombarding her with violent and distracting hallucinations. Then a gust of wind smacked a low-hanging branch into the back of her head and hard geometric shapes blinded her direction. She longed for morning light. Trying her right-side pocket she found her torch which gifted her an unwavering beam. Then she summoned the courage to swing it about, but it did not illuminate whatever she had sensed, deep in the dark.
Giddy with fear, a deadly delusion began to form. This was her land, the Brecon Beacons, a land where truly dreadful doings did not belong, let alone happened to young girls…
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