STALKER
I slithered through the grass like a snake, my heart pounding so hard in its ribbed cage that I am afraid it is trying to break free.
My breath comes in fast raspy gusts, each one more labored than the one before. I don' know how long I was running for but my muscles burn, so I know it was long enough, longer than I could endure.
I lost my weapon a while back; the knife would be useless against my pursuer, but it had given me some comfort.
I can hear him drawing closer, his heavy footsteps calm and measured. I worry that he will see the grass swaying around me, that he will spot me here in the grass, but my survival instincts push me onward, inching away from my would-be attacker.
My outstretched hand falls on a length of wood, a solid piece of two-by-four. I wait as he draws nearer, the board clasped firmly in my hand.
When the moment is right, I will spring upward and swing the wood. It might not be enough, but at the moment, it is the only hope I have.
I reposition myself and wait. When he is close enough I will strike, like a snake from the grass.
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