Ever had that terrible feeling that somebody is following you? Perhaps you have caught a late night train and while you are walking home, the streets are deserted. Suddenly you are aware of footsteps. You want to turn round to see who is behind you, but your growing anxiety prevents you from doing so. You increase your pace in the hope that you can lose this unknown person who you perceive to be following your trail. When you finally get home the relief is palpable.
In my book of short stories, Flight of Destiny, at the end of my story called “Cast from Hell” , there is a similar situation to the above scenario.
The train arrived late in the evening at the station nearest my parents’ house. It was dark and deserted, and I felt truly alone. I breathed a sigh of relief and began dragging my case down the dark road to my parents’ house. Wisps of fog slowly crept in, obscuring the stars, then the moon, and finally the local scenery. A few moments later, it began to drizzle.I heard a twig break behind me, followed by the repetitive click of heels on tarmac. I didn’t immediately panic, but I recall feeling increasingly uneasy. I picked up my pace, only to hear the sound of the footsteps behind getting closer rather than more distant. I turned abruptly to try a gain a cursory look at my stalker, but the combination of darkness, fog and drizzle, made it impossible to see anything more than a foot away. I turned and further upped my pace, but my effort was frustrated by having to drag the case. The dense fog parted momentarily and turned and caught a glimpse of a person not far behind me, the face shadowy and undefined. The fog immediately re-engulfed the elusivefigure. The person appeared to be wearing a hooded cloak and riding boots, which would account for the pronounced clicking noises that eerily reverberated along the road. The footsteps behind me slowed, crunched some slushy leaves, then resumed moving at a faster pace.My sense of dignity stopped me from calling out for help, but I nonetheless discarded my luggage and ran, hampered this time by the high heels I was wearing. I couldn’t shake off my pursuer, who, to my horror, was now almost within touching distance of me. I became aware of my pursuer’s labored breathing, and for a moment, I could swear I caught the briefest whiff of perfume. It even seemed familiar,but in my anxiety, I wasn’t able to place it. My body froze when a hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to face the grey specter in what seemed like slow motion.
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