Lights Out

The starting line was intense, brightly lit by a coven of lanterns. Sparks like fireflies glittering in the night around the forest’s edge. The line was crowded, a row of thirty runners spread out in small groups. Some in uniform dressed up as ghosts, others’ faces painted with powder, streaked into comical smiles, traces of blood blossoming on bottom lips with plastic fangs.

The whistle went and we were off. Me and my two pals, Lee and Rob, sprinted off into the darkened woods, unsure of what awaited us. A zombie run, they said. What awaited us amongst the trees was unnerving. My heart was pumping, adrenaline flowing through my veins, senses heightened, eyes trying to pick out the route, pitch blackness all around. The odd lantern glowing in the distance, apprehension, fear the slightest sound making us jump. The moment as we ran down the path, the leaves crunching underfoot, then the low murmur, the shuffling and groans, an emaciated bloody arm lunging out the trees trying to grab us as we raced past. The fear was intense. Spooked by every sound in the darkness, spurring us on to faster speeds.