His face. His non-existent face. Burned into my mind like a scar. It was white, not just white, ghostly. The kind of face you'd find in a nightmare.
Taking in a couple sharp intakes of oxygen, I quickly sit up, with my heartbeat not even faintly in presence from the shock I just had. Presently I am in a forest, a dark one at that. Absent still, was my fearful heartbeat from the curious villains that could be lurking behind the corner, behind any tree, ready to pounce on me, the innocent, unarmed, young girl - minus the Swiss Army knife I tend to carry about with me in my left converse. My hand slivers down my leg to feel the cool, reassuring feeling of the familiar, worn metal I have fingered and thumbed so many times before, "I better find somewhere to sleep until morning," I think aloud, I gasp and quickly cover my mouth. Yeah, as if slapping my hands to my face will tone down my presence. I let out a silent sigh. "Shelter," I murmur, picking my favoured jacket off the forest floor and dusting it off with my right hand, whilst holding it by the hood in the other. I look to the tree behind me, "this'll do," says I, and I bite down onto my jacket to hold it in my mouth and then proceed to climb the tree carefully, placing my jacket on a sturdy branch to give myself little comfort. When laid down and snugly in the tree, I sigh to myself, "Goodnight Gwendolyn," my name is my last word before I close my eyes.
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Don't Try and Stop Me
Fanfiction'His face. His non-existent face. Burned into my mind like a scar. It was white, not just white, ghostly. The kind of face you'd find in a nightmare.' Gwendolyn, the kind of name you'd associate with a fair lady in medieval Britain, but would you as...
