They were coming for me. I could just see the dark shapes stumbling over the hill, their hair and cloaks whipping in the wind. The storm was rising, and would be good cover for my escape. I turned and fled into the night. Stumbling downhill and splashing across the creek, icy fear crept up my spine, and cold rain poured down on my head. I must find shelter. Downhill to the right I spied an abandoned barn. “Better to avoid people altogether,” I thought, and turned toward the ramshackle barn. It looked rather run down, but was dry and smelled only of old straw. I climbed into the loft, curled up in the hay, and slept until dawn. When the sound of birds singing awoke me, I was stiff with damp and cold, but relieved that it was once again light. Climbing down to the barn floor I noticed an old nag munching hay in the corner. She easily let me saddle her, and I climbed on her back and headed for the open road, but which direction? Back toward town, where the police might believe my story, and help, or into the forest where I could hide until a better plan came to mind.
Vote to the right.
