Isabella stumbled through the darkened woods, flashlight shaky in her trembling grip. Its light flitted between the trees like a frightened butterfly. Somewhere in the trees behind her, there was the sound of a cracking twig. She let out a gasp and whirled around, a look of terror on her face. She ran her flashlight around the trees for a moment, before deciding there wasn’t anything there. She turned back around and started stumbling through the forest again.
Occasionally, she would turn around and look over her shoulder, like there was something chasing her. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. Her clothes were ripped and torn, and the satchel slung over her shoulder looked like it was held together with spit and prayers.In the late-night darkness, and with Isabella’s fragile state of mind, her environment seemed malevolent, even hostile. Their branches seemed like tentacles, reaching out to seize her and pull her in. Whenever she ran into a branch, she woul