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Title: All in the imagination

by Anna from Scotland | in writing, fiction

I could hear It. It was right behind me, coming closer and closer. I knew I could not out run It, no one could. Nothing survived if It decided to take them. I could hear my ragged breathing in my ears, my feet pounded the pavement repeatedly, a dull thump that echoed around the empty, rain washed streets. Where was everyone? Would no one come and save me? A desperate sob escaped my lips, but I held back the tears. I hadn't the energy to spare for crying. On and on my feet pounded, sounding like an old man's heart as it beats its final beats, but still It got closer. Maybe I could shake it off? A quick left here, a right and then' A dead end. The bottom of an alleyway. I couldn't turn back now. I was trapped. Condemned to die like a rat in a cage, among the stinking bags of rubbish and animal waste. A noise behind me made me swing round. It had found me. I froze, eyes wide with horror as I gazed upon my pursuer. It was shrouded in a cloak of darkness and evil hung about its person like a dark cloud. The eyes' empty. The flesh'rotten. I could smell the metallic stench of death and the bile rose in my throat. I began to panic. My heart began to race. I opened my mouth as It stepped towards me, my eyes huge, my breaths shallow' and I screamed. Once. A single, ear splitting, petrified scream that went on and on, echoing round the rooftops and the deserted streets until it was abruptly cut off, the darkness surrounded me, and I knew no more.
They found the body in the morning, lying amongst the rubbish bins down a side alley. An overdose, the forensics said, a mixture of too much alcohol and hallucinogenic substances. The poor devil would have been pursued by who knows what before he died, but it would all be in his imagination. Some say that he quite literally scared himself to death. He saw something he didn't want to see, thought it was real and panicked. Drove his heart into overdrive and eventually killed himself. Eye witnesses say they saw him running down the street from their windows, looking terrified. They say he was acting mad, gesticulating wildly, throwing glances over his shoulder and working himself into a state before eventually cutting down the alley that was to be his final resting place. All in his imagination, the people say nodding knowingly and shaking their heads at what young people did to themselves these days.
Far away, another terrified scream split the night, slicing through the air before being abruptly cut off.
All in his imagination they say. Monsters don't exist. It was all in his imagination' Wasn't it..?

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I'm fascinated by the supernatural and things we can't explain. It annoys me when people try to put a rational explanation to something that they don't understand themselves in the hopes of making it all seem normal and right so I decided to write a story about it.

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