Sweats

It was terrifying. It was like some kind of primeval fear rooted deep within me that reared up when I heard the sound. I knew straight away what it was - and what it wanted, and I started to run. The foliage was thick but I just hurled myself into it, my legs powering me along and from somewhere behind I could make out the things pace quickening as it gathered speed, it's foul breath sounding more laboured. I was running blindly in my panic to get away, hardly feeling the lacerations on my arms and face - branches lashing out upon me as I forced myself deeper into the undergrowth.

My own breath was beginning to come harder now and my legs were getting heavier. It seemed like I was mired knee deep in some glutinous bog and every pace was an effort. I was aware of the mounting panic and my heart hammering in my chest and behind me the horror was closing in.

It's claw grazed my shoulder and I awoke, bathed in sweat and panting madly. Outside the rain fell relentlessly and the wind forced it against the window, the curtains flailing madly from their hooks in a crazed dance.

I got up and made coffee, the nightmare still replaying itself in my mind.