Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Death in His Eyes

I am running. Harder than I have ever ran before. My bare feet pound hard against the cold damp earth. My toes dig into the dirt with each step. My long brown hair whips my face, burning. My eyes leak tears, forced out by the rush of air.
I run faster. I can feel him behind me. My lungs burn, my throat catching fire with the lack of air. I know I must stop, must breathe, but I have to keep running.
I run harder, pain shooting up my legs with every step. I keep on though. Because if I stop, I know that I will surely die.
I know he is closer. I turn my head slightly, try to see behind me. But no one is there. I turn back around and pound into something. Hard.
I fall backwards, my back thudding onto the wet leaves and ground, the little air i had forced from my body, leaving me on the ground gasping.
I see him standing in front of me, looking down. His bright green eyes penetrate into my soul, his blond hair whipping in the breeze. And in that moment, I knew I would surely die.

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