I do not know why I ran.
All I remember is -
Suddenly I was running - tearing my crimson skirts on briars and thorns, my long black hair catching on branches that whipped me cruelly as I raced past.
A pause. A breath.
Hiding in an old stone doorway where I listened intently - still sure I could hear the steady, unrelenting sound of black boots on frost behind me.
I ran on.
Through twisted forest, derelict yards, wasteland overgrown with mangled machinery, the bright neon of the city - and the rush of noisy shoppers on a late winter evening.
Still I ran.
On and on...
Certain that my pursuers were close behind me - feeling their hot breath caressing the nape of my neck - high on my fear - the intoxicating scent of my blood as it pulsed violently so close beneath my pale flesh.
And then I remember how I slowed. Time slowed.
Nearing the corner gates -
On into that place with the heaps of old stones -
The angels and the ivy.
The last thing I remember -
Seeing my name cut deep into that ston