Excerpt: Ormalia

I stopped. I'd definitely seen something at the end of the street, just past the place where I was sure it would turn back toward the main road. I stood there trying to strain my eyes to see what it might be. I felt completely on edge. I didn't want to go forward but I didn't want to go back. I was sure I'd seen something but what?

I stood there barely breathing and thinking about what to do. If I went forward, I could be putting myself in danger. What if it was someone looking to hurt another person or some drunk idiot who would do something stupid. Maybe it was just a homeless person who was just as scared as I was but without a place to run to like I had. I waited for a few breaths and kept my eyes forward, still trying to see what it was ahead of me. Then I took a few tentative steps forward. I could tell there was someone there but they didn't react as I moved. I kept going trying to pretend I didn't see him or her.

I could see the corner just a few feet away when I heard a cough. It sent a cold chill up my spine. I suddenly felt very scared. I increased my pace. I had almost reached the corner. The light coming from that street seemed to cast a long glare on the street I was on. It seemed inviting. I just needed to get to that corner and out of here. I started to jog a little. My mind was beginning to panic.

That cough. It was like whatever was on the other side of the stream of light, on this dark street, wanted me to know it was there. It wanted me to know. Fear griped me and I began to run. The echos of my feet hitting the pavement got louder and louder as I increased my pace. I was afraid to look pass the light now and just moved toward the corner, turning it at nearly a full out sprint.

I was almost completely around the corner when I was knocked off my feet.

No. Pulled off my feet. Whoever was there had yanked my scarf, hard. I felt it constrict around my throat as it knocked me back on my butt. My own momentum helping to throw me off balance and onto the ground. I laid there on the hard pavement, stunned, pain spreading through my body from the shock of landing on the hard ground.

I started to get up but was pulled back down by my scarf again. I was dragged back the scarf tightening around my throat cutting off the air to my wind pipe. I tried to scream but nothing came out but a low squeak. I was pulled back and could feel the pavement against me, treating me roughly as I was pulled back into the darkness again. I started to claw at my scarf, desperate to get away, desperate to get air. I was worried I'd black out. I could not defend myself or run away if I fainted from the loss of air.

I started kicking my feet out hoping to hook my leg or heel around something to hold me, to force who ever it was to let go. I struggled, twisting and turning. I felt the scarf loosen slightly, just enough to get a quick breath. Then, it was pulled tight again as it was used to lift me, my back to whom ever had me. I felt a hand grip my right arm, the nails digging into me, like they were cutting through my clothes. I jerked.

The hand turned me around so I could face my assailant. I was tense, ready to fight. The air in my lungs was burning. I needed to take another breath. The fear I felt before this moment was nothing compared to what was moving through me as I looked into the yellow eyes of my attacker. They were sick eyes, the color of pus. The breath was foul. I would have gagged had I been able to move my throat at all. The worst part was the teeth. Rows of sharp, stained teeth seem to line the mouth at the top and bottom. I kicked out and connected the toe of my shoe to what felt like a shin.

The.. thing dropped me. I could breath but didn't have the luxury of enjoying some long breaths. It made a terrible sound that could have been my name, but sounded more like a curse word. I took off running not daring to look back.