Clock Terror

              I grabbed Dais, slip on my sneakers and threw on my school sweatshirt. I opened up my safe that I hid in the corner of my closest and grabbed a wad of cash, the diamond necklace my mother gave to me only hours before her unfortunate death, and finally a picture of my mother. I ran down the steps and stepped into the living room. I turned the key, already in the keyhole of the gun case, and grabbed my father's shotgun. I came into the open kitchen, snatching a ring of keys off the counter and grabbing two prefilled, reuseable bottles of water, tossing them into my hiking backpack; with flashlight, energy bars, first-aid kit, rope, and a set of dark colored clothing for hunting already in it. My perparations took only 5 minutes, then I was out the door.

              Outside, the fall breeze whipped my shoulder length, honey colored hair against my face. Dais crawled further into my sweatshirt pocket. I jogged down the long, flat, dirt covered driveway. Then I had to choose which way to go. I could take the main road to the center of town or I could  take the short cut and run through Devil's Grove Playground. Which way should I go?

The End

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