"Through the Woods" by The Weeks Review

I sprinted through the woods as fast as I could. Nearly out of breath I took a quick sharp turn to my right accidentally causing branches to scratch my arms leaving small, red, angry marks on them. I could feel the sweat slowly trickle down my neck as well as the sensation of heavy, overbearing eyes on my back. I complied with my urge of quickly looking back and taking a glance to see if I could spot my pursuer and saw nothing; the only sign that I was being followed was the loud sound of fallen leaves and twigs crunching beneath his feet behind me. Should I take a left, which would lead me to the creek where I could hide under the old, creaky, wooden bridge? Or should I turn right which would lead me to a small meadow with tall grass and wild flowers that could offer me perfect coverage from my follower? Turning slightly to the left I followed the small dirt trail down to the creek running past bushes and trees.