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by: Simona Panova
Copyright 2013, Simona Panova.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
The desperate piercing scream of horror echoed far above the sharpened tops of the trees wrapped in thin obsidian-transparent mist, and I startled jerkily, tripping again, and almost collapsed onto the cold moist ground. The dark-crimson luxurious cloth of my long flared dress was lingering around my legs as I was running and that was restricting my movements and delaying me...
But I needed to run...
Another agonizing squeal of the same voice tore apart the silence of the centuries-old hazily obscure stolid forest, and I fiercely bit into my lips, struggling to hurry even when the overwhelming metallic taste of my own blood filled my mouth, and the all-absorbing feeling of predestination crushed into my senses, rendering me hopeless.
The victim was doomed!
Somewhere far out of my sight, the screaming
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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