*Constance*

A rush of wind. The sounds of screams. Raging fire lit the night in a deadly orange glow. I ran. I ran. And I ran. All I could do was run, but I knew it would do no good, for the distance between me and my pursuer never grew larger. Instead, it grew steadily smaller as though I hadn’t moved at all.

I screamed, my throat raw from the noise, but I didn’t stop. I screamed until I was certain my throat was bloodied. I ran until my feet were no more than ...