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The Park

I like to wear sensible shoes when I walk home from work; I have to pass through the park, and I might need to run. At this time of year, the nights get dark early, and the dark attracts a certain kind of predator.

A woman on her own needs to be aware of her surroundings, and I like to think I am striking enough to attract attention. The young man following me seems to think so. I can hear his breathing, getting faster as he closes the distance. A glance over my shoulder reveals moonlight, reflected off the blade he is carrying.

I can feel my mouth begin to water as he comes into striking range; my nails lengthening.

If he runs, I have my running shoes on. I think I can catch him. Running messes my hair up, so I'll try to make it quick.

Make your move. Please, make your move.

Story by:

Steve Boseley

23 February 2014