She climbed through the trees and ran for her life.
The figure dressed in black chased her, a blade in his gloved hand.
Nothing but trees and trees and more trees. She didn’t know where she was or where she was running. She ran and ran and ran.
He chased and chased and chased.
Something ahead caught her attention. It sparkled in the sky and comforted her.
She ran until she recognized it was a cross. A church. She heard singing in the distance; their voices growing closer.
Tears stung her eyes as her hands pushed open the doors.
Saved.
Note: I am doing a personal challenge to grow consistent in my writing by committing to writing 100 stories in 100 days only using 100 words (or less).
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