99-word fiction: Hunted
The trees stand black and skeletal and the only sounds are the dripping branches and my heart hammering in my chest. My breath leaves a fog as my lungs seek oxygen in the chill air. I rest my head on a damp, moss-covered tree trunk and try to cool my brain but my options are narrowing.
I’ve been running for hours. Down the hill the distant voices are getting louder, filling my ears with the sounds of fear and hate. I can’t go forward and I can’t go back.
I’m a hunted man. And now they’ve released the dogs.
My Words, My World 