by W.J. May
Prologue
Years ago…
The sun is rising, and I feel my death is imminent. I don’t remember how the events unfold, but I understand the natural instinct inside of me. I need to find a phone, or I’ll be killed. Fight or flight. I choose flight.
My breath shortens with my heart pumping at an agonizing rhythm. My lungs beg for more oxygen as my body tries to keep up with the demands I’m pushing. I don’t want to die.
I can barely focus on my surroundings. Everything’s a haze of dreary color, blurring past as I run. I round a corner and spot a red pay phone across the cobbled lane. Relief floods my terror. It’s not my day to die. I push my body past exertion; my only focus, the phone booth.
The first rays of dawn begin to creep onto the ground, as if they’re hands reaching out to grasp me. I collapse into the phone; my eyes close as I heave a sigh. Mercifully, I disappear…into the shadows.
