White Mist
I walk among the children
Some young and some old
Like the oak tree in my
Grandfather’s house.
The wind ruffles the leaves.
It is a foggy fall night.
Im not alone.
At least I tell myself I’m not.
A shrill from a ponytailed child
Sends shivers up my arm.
I walk a little faster
Too afraid to stay
Too long in the dark.
My purse vibrates,
I ignore it for
I have heard the footsteps.
I begin to run quickly out of breath,
The wind wiping my hair
And beating my face.
The alley around the corner
Is my only escape.
I turn right and bend
Behind the trashcans
To hide my head.
Puffing i look around.
No one.
I feel my heart beat slow
Too slowly before the door is thrown
I see the glint of steel in the man’s hand
And the blood drains
As if the blade had been thrown to my heart
3…2…1
The last fight has begun.