The overactive imagination
She had been driving for over an hour. The thick blanket of deep forest green trees choked out the blazing orange of the setting sun. Shadows like claws reached out across the road as she made her way through the forest.
She saw the blood-red truck peeking through the trees. Smoke billowed from the truck while the trees flashed by pushing her ever closer.
Her heart beat in her chest as if trying to escape. Her breath, now shallow, wheezed through parted lips.
Hamish Anderson’s “Trouble” blasted from the radio.
She could swear she saw it move, inching its way to the side of the road. When she blinked it was back where it started. Her foot, heavy as lead, shot the car forward.
Voice trembling she whispered, “What is happening? Oh god, I don’t wanna die.”
There it was, she slammed her eyes closed. She couldn’t breathe. Time slowed. She passed the truck.
Lungs burning she gasped and flung her eyes open to the rearview mirror.
It was empty.
The truck hadn’t moved.
Laughing she blew out a breath and shook her head. She needed to get out of these woods before she gave herself a heart attack.
***Disclaimer*** This is a work in progress and as such is likely to change before reaching the finished product. Thank you for your understanding.
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