Following Footsteps

It’s after midnight, and the streets are empty. She’s a woman, walking alone, in a skirt that’s a whisper too short, and heels a shade too high. They lengthen her legs, giving her the vulnerable look of a deer picking her way through the forest.

The darkness has heightened her senses. She can hear the footsteps, following behind, even though they are soft. Someone’s wearing trainers. They echo her own steps. When she speeds up, they speed up. When she slows down, they slow down. When she pauses, they pause too.

She waits for a moment to be sure, then lets herself dissolve into the shadows. There’s silence, and then the footsteps start up again. They’re moving towards her.

She smiles and licks her dark red lips. She’s going to feed tonight.

 

My first twiglet! Thank you, Misky.