My hands were cupped in my bosom, decomposing the orchestrated fear in my palpitating heartbeat, that of a loose cannon, I could not grasp hold of the solid reality, but helplessly sinking into the chimerical world built around my head.
The precipice was acrophobic, my legs jellied, my hands writhed wildly, my head spinning.
I looked back, the apparitions of those blood-thirsty freaks, gleaming with ruby-red eyes, wreathed in the hunger for the dose of fresh red blood. I slowly lifted my hand to cover my scar, that they had inflicted on me, a laceration, physically, mentally, and indelibly.
The shimmer of stars reflected across the vicinity, yet the grey moon was mantled in dark drapes of cloth.
huff… huff… either I die in their hands or… I harnessed all the fortitude, took a step into the air particles, hope, I clutched my hands, embracing the free fall.