The Witching Hour

What do you do at the witching hour?

My feet pounded against the cement. My breath was ragged and my vision blurry. Sweat stinged my eyes and joined with tears as I forced myself forward.

What do you do at the witching hour?

The moonlight lit my path from above, guiding me like a divine savior. But, it also illuminated me. Put a spotlight on me for those for followed, like a backstabbing traitor.

What do you do at the witching hour?

As I sprinted down the street I watched as every window, every door that wasn’t already nailed down with wood slam shut, sealing themselves in. And me out.

What do you do at the witching hour?

I felt my body lurch forward as I tripped over a rock. My body slammed against the ground, shattering my kneecap. I couldn’t run anymore.

What do you do at the witching hour?

I gazed up as ebony black silhottes surrounded me.

What do you do at the witching hour?

You try to survive.

But not all do.