{~Choice 1. Go back inside the car -Go to next chapter ~}
{~Choice 2. Walk down the road - Continue reading down~}
You slowly look at the forest, your gaze traveling to the dark road. "Maybe someone lives nearby." You whisper under your breath. "It's worth a shot."
You trek down the road, gravel crunching loudly under your feet. An unease settles in the atmosphere as you stumble blindly into the shadows, the moon now covered by a sheer group of clouds. The air is damp, a musky, sticky feeling against your skin. Although the air is warm, you feel a chill creeping down your back, goosebumps raising.
You quicken your pace.
The sound of a twig snapping echoes from just beyond your sight. You jump slightly, startled, but you quickly recover, laughing at yourself. "It's just an animal."
You continue down the road, the wind howling eerily. Crunch. Crunch. You pause, footprints crunching over the undergrowth towards you. You take a breath, the sound getting louder.
You take off down the path, stumbling blindly through the shadows. The sounds are getting louder. You wail in fear, running faster.
{CHOICE ~ Hide - Chapter 3 }
{CHOICE ~ Keep running - Continue reading down }
You keep running, your heart pounding in your chest. The sounds are getting louder, right behind you. You suddenly feel searing pain seize your shoulder, making you trip, falling into the ground with a gasp of agony.
You hesitantly touch your shoulder, feeling something sharp. You pull the knife from your skin, your hands shaking. Another footprint sounds just behind you. You try to sit up but cold hands snake around your neck, squeezing.
You thrash, trying to scream as the hands grow tighter. You quickly reached, grabbing a medium sized stone, bashing it into whatever was behind you. Wheezing for air, you slowly crawl back, turning to face it. You let out a startled screech, bending forward to vomit.
It stood in front of you, wearing a blood-ridden deer mask. the dark holes in the mask mocked you, cracks fracturing around the curved openings. Beside it was a rag, covered in mud and crimson liquid, dried and caked onto it. Without taking its penetrating stare from you, it reached into the rag and pulled out a bread knife.
The jagged edges were old with rust.
It lunges at you. All you can feel is pain, your gaze becoming hazy. You can taste blood. It leans over you, getting blurry as you lay on your side, feeling yourself bleeding out.
You have died.
