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ELEVEN: Elm Street of My Own
ALL I DID WAS RUN.
Sweat dripped down my temples and stung my dry eyes as the piercing darkness of the alleys came rushing at me. Its footsteps lacked faster and faster in a tempo so horrifying that it was about to swallow me raw.
Guilt-stricken minds felt nothing but fear today.
As I ran and ran, I snatched a look from my peripherals to see a horrifying vision so clear and distinct that I could not have been mistaken. It was the decaying body of my sister coming at me at lightning speed, rotting flesh flying through the breeze created by her run. Her mouth gaped open like the blackness of the abyss of the ocean trench and her left eye dangled down like a swinging pendulum, leaving a hole in her skull that seemed as if it was staring back at me with a menacing glare. Her hair flew in strands all over the place as it decayed from her scalp and the wind blew them away, leaving a bruised brown spot like a chemot
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