• She walks alone down the street. It is the middle of winter, and she shivers, despite the blue scarf around her neck. The houses loom on both sides of her and she pulls her coat tighter. There is silence, nothing but silence. It muffles the sound of her shoes on the side walk, the sound of her uneven breathing, the sound of footsteps behind her…

    She whirls around; her scarf twirls like a blue ribbon around her neck. There is no one there. No one but the shadows cast by the streetlights. The trees bend slightly in the wind, seeming to close in on her. She shakes her head softly and releases her breath in a puff of white. She turns around and walks a little faster.

    The wind picks up, blowing her hair behind her. She pulls her hat over her ears and her coat over her hands. She thinks of her house, where a warm fire is no doubt waiting. Warm like the cup of hot chocolate she would make, warm like the blanket she would cover herself in, warm like the breath on the back of her neck…

    She freezes and slowly spins around. There is no one there. Her eyes dart around, searching for an explanation other than paranoia. She takes a deep breath and wraps her scarf tighter around her neck. Home is not far now; it would only be a few more minutes before she would walk in the door. But still…

    A breath of wind suddenly pushes her forward and she runs. The wind beats at her back, as if telling her to run faster. Her scarf streams behind her, the blue mingling with her black hair. The snow crunches faster and faster, like a timer about to go off, like a siren getting closer, like a never ending chase…

    She trips and lands face first in the snow, struggling to get up. Darkness presses down. Darkness and red. Blood red. She screams, but there is no sound. A cold hand clamps down on her mouth. She tries to pull it away, but her arms lay limp at her sides, and soon she does not move. Another cold hand takes hers. She is pulled up from the snow, but still there is only black. Black and a flash of blood, blood red. The hand takes her, pulls her away. At first, she fights it, reaching back to the snow but soon she gives in, letting the shadows take her deeper until she is gone.

    On the ground lies a black haired girl. She slowly gets up, flexing her arms and leg, as if testing them out. She shakes off the snow on her clothes and walks away, unseen. There is a house not that far away. She walks inside and looks around, as if this is the first time she’s seen it. There is a warm fire in the living room and next to it a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket. She smiles and hangs up the winter jacket she is wearing. Next to the jacket, she hangs her blood red scarf.