grendel project

It was dark; something was behind me, I don't know what yet, and I was getting tired fast. I know this sounds stupid, but there it was. Dark, and formless, but tangible. I could smell it in my sweat, hear it in my heartbeat. But when I would turn around, there was nothing there but the overwhelming sense that I wasn't seeing something, that I was missing the eyes, missing the shadow among the shadows of the street. And each turn made it worse, because I'd turn back with the fear that while I was turned I was really walking toward it. Lest I ever doubted the speed of the mind, I know it now: there is an eternity in the turning of the head. Entire worlds of fear, whole legions of demons are created during the twist of the neck to peer at potential danger.

I ran for a steetlight; that only stole my night vision, and it was left to my ears to sort out dark breaths from the void beyond the streetlamp's little pool. Where were the people?

Just then it began to rain, but I hardly noticed it. It was cover for the sound of my footsteps. I ran into an alleyway hoping to get my night vision back and to see whatever silhouetted against the lighter main street.

I succeeded.