My head is pounding, my feet are screaming and my dress is waterlogged and impossibly heavy but I keep pushing on ward. In the distance my pursuer’s footsteps have an echoing effect on the damp cobblestone road, and it seems the alley is narrowing before me. As I run with every ounce of speed I can, a loose thread on my dress gets caught on an exposed nail, in the confusion I manage to step on a loose stone that shifts under my weight. With that I come crashing down to the ground, when I go to stand up, a searing pain shots up my leg. Now the menacing sounds of footsteps grow closer to me and I am terrified just by the sound of the heavy boots clamping down on the hard rock surface. I manage to pull myself by holding on to the wall beside me and hop along to a back door of one of the more busy pub back doors. I press my back against the door and hold my breath a a shadowy figure turns the corner.
A strong hand pulls from behind amd into the musky smelling pub.
"Who da 'ell are ya then?" A thick irish accent ask me
_______________________________________________________________________
A/N
Hey should i keep writing this story or??
