Laura couldn’t make her legs move faster. She knew he was behind her, but didn’t know how close. Looking back would only slow her down.
She had been in her garden, at the side of her house, when she first saw him walking towards her. People walk past all the time, but he immediately seemed different. His walk wasn’t the casual stroll of someone clearing their head or walking their dog. He strode forth with confidence and determination. His eyes swept from one side of the narrow street to the other, as though he were looking for something. Laura soon knew he had been looking for her.
When he spotted her, kneeling down in her muddied flower bed, he didn’t look away. He didn’t even seem to blink. He stared. His gaze caught hers, and Laura found it near impossible to look away. He didn’t open his mouth to greet her. He wasn’t a salesman or someone needing directions. This man was dangerous. He had already stepped off of the sidewalk and into her yard before it occurred to her to run.
But it was like she was knee-deep in treacle. The more she tried, the less far she seemed to get. Her heart pounded in her chest and her muscles started to cramp. What could she do? He was younger and faster.
If she stopped to confront him it would mean certain death -- before the end of the first chapter. If she woke from her dream, she would face the certain ridicule of the Feltham Downs Critique Circle. But wait . . . if she could wake him . . . that would be literary irony.
Laura stopped running and turned around. That's when the train hit her.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: Anonymous