My harsh pants disturbed the brisk night air, plumes of my breath expelled from my body as I exerted myself, pushing and fighting to run away. My feet pounded the unforgiving forest floor , wreaking havoc on my knees, tricky tree roots tripped me and wayward branches snapped at my face and clothes. My lungs were on fire. But I couldn’t stop now, I fought to stay upright and keep running. I knew I would not make it out of the forest without a miracle. My predator stalked me relentlessly, waiting for me to make a mistake and doom myself. I had no one to blame but myself for my current predicament. It was I who had decided to collude with the treacherous coven of high witches. Self- preservation and greed had led to me to this moment and now I had to pay the price.

I couldn’t help but think of every scary movie I had ever seen, as a spectator I could always tell how the dumb blonde girl would die. She would run into the forest attempting to escape her tormentor and somehow trip over a branch screaming in horror as her predator approached. Her farcical character would die famously and her death was always the first. Now I was starring in my own parody, but instead of playing spectator, I was the dumb blonde. I just hope I don’t trip. Just as the thought crossed my mind; a branch slapped me in the face, knocking the wind out of me. Good Lord, I can not catch a break.

I was beginning to overexert myself. I was running far longer than my body could handle. The life of a couch-potato was coming back to bite me in the butt. My stomach was beginning to cramp, my body was creating a visceral response to alert me that it would soon shut down if I did not rest immediately. The witches I had partnered with in a scheme to steal the dark lord’s riches were nowhere to be seen. I should have known that it was too good to be true. Why would some hotshot witches ask for aid from some lowly street urchin, skilled in pickpocketing?  My street smarts clearly weren’t substantial enough to inform me that I was the covens scapegoat in case of emergency. And now that our plot was foiled I was being chased through a forest by the dark lord’s furball lackeys. These hounds were no mere dogs but built like Cerberus, and just like the ancient- greek canines they were intent on not allowing me to escape death. I could feel them closing in on me from behind, their dank breath and snapping jaws nipping at my heels. Suddenly a giant paw flashed in my peripheral and came down upon my shoulder. Pain rippled through me as claws slashed through the sinew of my arm. I kept running though, I would not stop.

But I couldn’t continue on like this, it was clear to me I would have to use my last resort. I dug my hand into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the witches potion that was bestowed onto me. The potion was promised to give me incomparable strength for a duration of five minutes. That’s all I would have 5 minutes to waylay the dogs or I would surely collapse in the next ten. I gulped the potion down and prayed to God that it wasn’t a fake. I paused to test my new strength and ripped up a nearby tree from the ground. It had worked! I slowed my run to a stop, the pain in my shoulder becoming more prominent now that I wasn’t focused on not dying. I would surely get restitution for the injuries the hounds had given me. Yes, the pain they have caused will surely be awarded with retribution.

The acquisition of my newfound strength blessed me with the courage to face the hounds head on. I turned around to see that they were closing in on me, unwittingly believing me weak and helpless. I would surely have the last laugh today, all I had to do was rip their heads from their shoulders.  A Piece of cake. Once I killed the dogs the witches will surely compensate for the suffering they induced.  Abruptly a rustling interrupted the silence of the forest and an arrow whipped through the air arriving at its destination between the eyes of one of the hounds. The canine keeled over dead in an instant. I knew who that arrow belonged to. It was the huntsman who had tried to warn me about associating with the witches.  I stood there shocked as not an instant later two more arrows whistled through the air, landing its mark, finally annihilating my tormentors.

I slumped to the ground grateful beyond belief and gaped at the lifeless vessels that used to be my executioners. Too many emotions raced through me at once for me to fully comprehend my situation. I was thrilled. I felt nothing for the lives that had been loss, my heart uncontrite. I should by praying to the Lord almighty and begging for forgiveness of my sins, but , oh no, I would not be a penitent criminal. The Lord did not remember me in times of need. I would not praise him for sparing my life.

I limped away from the scene, my body aching. It dawned on me that most likely in the near future the dark lord would be arriving at my doorstep to collect his dues. I would face punishment for the events that took place tonight. I could not see my family again, lest the dark lord attempt to attack them to hurt me. I would alienate myself to save their lives. I could only hope to wait in exile for the dark lord to murder me.

I was now approaching the edge of the forest. A few hundred feet before me the forest broke apart to accommodate a small country road leading to a nearby town. I had to vacate as quickly as possible because the forest I was currently trampling through was known for its uncanny ability to become the venue of sinister, eldritch events. And I was not keen on becoming another campfire horror story.

After receiving the money I was due from the witches, I donated 40 percent of my riches to a shelter for  struggling children and women. It didn’t feel right to keep all of the money for myself. I was hoping my righteous and benevolent act would somehow keep me out of hell, and of course it was for a good cause.