We race through the forest, dodging low hanging branches and leaping over tree roots. We are neck and neck. I am panting, and Michael is gasping for breath. We haven’t run this hard for this long in ages. Neither of us prepared for this marathon sprint. But we must keep going. We hear the distant thudding in the background.
I can tell the trees are getting closer together up ahead. I wish that the trees were thinning and we were close to getting out of this god forsaken forest. Instead we seem to be running further and further in. Branches tear at my clothes and scratch my arms; I pay them no mind. The trees are too close now for Michael and I to run side by side. I am too out of breath to tell him though. I just push myself harder, my legs aching, and Michael falls behind me. It sounds like the thud, thud, thud is getting louder, but maybe it is just my heart beating out of my chest.
I start to slow. My lungs feel empty as I try to gasp breaths while running. Even though I have slowed, Michael isn’t at my heels. I quickly glance back and notice Michael is barely jogging. I stop and go back; I cannot leave him. “You,” I pant, “you can do it.” My attempt at encouragement is barely above a whisper. I can almost make out a skittering noise now that we’ve stopped crashing through the forest. We stand for a few seconds and listen to the thuds. They sound as frequently as water droplets during a downpour.
I grab Michael’s wrist and pull him until he starts running again. My entire body aches, but we continue, with nothing but fear in our lungs. The thuds do not stop.
The trees start to thin out, just a little. Less tree roots to trip us. But I still feel dread rising, like we won’t make it out alive.
The skittering noise is upon us and I can hear thuds from not just behind me, but to my left and right as well. I hear a thump, and turn around in horror to see Michael fall to the ground, a bruise on his head.
“Go!” he croaks. But I watch in horror as the creature scuttle down the trees. Their sharp teeth protrude from their mouths. Their little black eyes stare hungrily at Michael. They grab at him with their horrible little human-like hands. They tear at his skin and leave slices of blood all over his body.
“Go-” he quietly pleads. I look into his eyes full of fear. I turn and run, tears falling down my face. Michael cries out in pain. I make it to the edge of the forest. I can no longer hear his screams, but the silence is far worse. I am safe, at the cost of my friend’s life. I crumple to the ground once I get far enough away from the edge of the forest. I let out a shaky sob.
I know I will never be able to see an acorn or squirrel again without being filled with dread.