It hurts when you open your eyes. You’re outside in a forest. Thunder tears through the blackened sky and rain has soaked through your clothes. You’re breathing in short bursts. You’re running and you cannot stop. Wet sticks and leaves, covered in sticky filth, slap against your face. Your hands feel like they are smeared with mud. It’s too dark to see anything in front of you but you cannot stop. There’s something after you, chasing you, hunting you down. You try to hear the sticks breaking or the sound of feet slapping against the ground behind you but your ears are filled with the pounding of your heart.

But you can feel it. And it’s close. It’s just over your shoulder. In a moment of doubt, you slow for only a step and suddenly you can feel the heat of its breath oozing through its teeth. You race forward but you begin to see the outline of its outstretched, jagged fingers hovering at either side of your face. There’s no getting away. It doesn’t run like you do. It floats. And it’s so fast. It moves like it is attached to you.

You begin to shout for help, knowing you’ll never make it back to the work camp. You never should have left. Your voice cracks as you damn yourself for coming here. It was a mistake but you just had to see it for yourself. And you had to be alone. That was the only way. The only way it would show itself. That was the only way you could know if the Witch was real...

Continue here.

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