I find myself in the middle of the woods while the sun is just bidding goodbye to the horizon. How the hell did I get here? I'm wearing a dark blue dress while my feet are bare. Then I remember; I was getting ready for my friend's party—but I can't quite remember leaving the house.
I try to think and breathe deeply and my breath comes out in a white 1)puff. It's getting dark and hearing the dried leaves 2)crunching under my feet gives my body a shiver. I can hear the 3)rustle of the wind through the trees and the running water from a nearby river.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, my back begins to 4)throb. I kneel 5)involuntarily on the ground from the 6)excruciating pain. I can't take it; it hurts too much. It's like the hammering of a thousand needles on my 7)scapula. I cry out in pain, tears running down my cheeks. Please, make it stop, I cry—and 8)miraculously, it does.
I get up from the ground 9)ever so slowly. The wind begins to whistle; I can feel it whipping my face. And that's when I hear the scream, a high-pitched scream that can only be caused by pure 10)agony, an endless pain or deep suffering. It blends with the wind. It's so hard to hear. I cover up my ears to block it out but it just grows louder and louder. Then I see a dark figure, like a man under a black cloak, coming in my direction. As it draws closer, I can see its 11)withering fingers, long and black. The cloak's not touching the ground but I couldn't see its feet either. It must be floating—but how? I couldn't see the face, it's too dark—or was it just that there'snothing to see?
The figure is coming, just a few feet away. Then it 12)shrieks, the same sound I heard earlier, the 13)piercing sound. It's trying to embrace and envelope me into its darkness. My instinct tells me to run, so I do. I run, as fast as I can, like I've never run before. Tears stream down my cheeks, still, I don't stop. As I look back, I trip on a fallen 14)log. I fall on the hard ground as I am still sobbing in pain and in fear.
I remain on the ground, head down, waiting for it to come after me. I give up—just let me die quickly.
A second passes, a minute, but still nothing. Then I hear a flapping sound; it's near, but it's soft, like a lullaby. I raise my head, and sure enough there are wings like an angel's, hugging me from the darkness, from harm.
I get up to my feet and they're still there, a shade of white and a speckle of blue. I must be dreaming. For how do I say this? The wings are mine.