13

Dreaming.

Running. Running.

The leaves smelled sickly sweet. Joe knew that smell. The smell of death, decay. Keep running. Don’t wake up. Stay in the darkness.

The leaves turned slippery and black. He was running through a river. The water got thicker, turned red. Blood. It splashed when his foot hit down.

The body lay ahead. He ran. Turned the body over.

A battered, broken face grimaced with an empty smile.

Noooo!