Lost

Lost

Danielle Martinez, Writer, poet

     The footprints in the snow were fresh. They veered off the path and into the woods. I had to make a choice. It was now or never. I think the never choice is best. I don’t have the right clothes or equipment. The guilt of letting them go will haunt me.

     As I walked home, I had even more guilt for every step I took. When I get home, what would I tell the store owner? That I am too much of a coward to run after the robbers?

Before I asked myself another question, I heard a noise and quickly turned around. I didn’t see anything.

     I began to walk and heard crunching snow. It sounded as if it was right behind me. Panicked, I started to jog.

     I heard the noise come after me. At this point, I didn’t look back and I just ran. I felt an arm wrap around my neck. I was trying to break away, but they were stronger. I couldn’t breathe and I knew this…