Clair had been warned and warned time and time again about the curse of this field. Just beyond the church, past the cemetery, the stretching, rolling fields, where once a rich farmer had planted and harvested crops, was a place to avoid. Those who wandered there were never seen again, but that was a creepy story to frighten children into behaving and from wandering too far from home. Clair knew that, everyone did.
The day had started lovely, despite the heavy, gray clouds the cast an odd grayish glow over the world, it had been a nice Halloween day. It had been a perfect day for a bit of Halloween exploring. Now that Clair and her friends were older, trick or treating was no longer a desirable activity. What better place to go explore than the supposed haunted and cursed, abandoned farming fields?
How Clair wished that she had listened to the warnings. It was too late, now. Her friends were gone, and Clair was left to escape alone.
The howling wind whipped snow flakes that pricked the skin like millions of little needles through the air. It was unlike any Halloween Clair had ever seen. She’d witnessed snow falling in small, soft showers in October over the years, but never had she seen snow on Halloween. And this was not a gentle, lazy snow shower, but a hard, cruel blizzard. The deep, drifting snow made her escape towards the church more difficult. She longed so badly it made her heard ache, to be be able to flee quickly and easily from her stalker.
She knew he was out there, somewhere. Clair hoped, prayed, that he was far behind her, but she couldn’t be sure. The snow fell a such a dense and quick pace that it stung her eyes and face when she tried to scan around her and though she bared her teeth and faced the stinging snow in her eyes, there was little to be seen. The wind blew the snow so hard it washed visibility to scarcley a few yards ahead and behind.
It was perfect weather, Clair thought, for a predator to hunt and strike.
Pressing forward, her body bowed against the wind, Claire tried to keep herself calm. It would only slow her already deathly slow trudging to panic. However, she could not fight the fear back and her mind seemed to play through gore and death she’d seen like a slide show.
Images of crimson hand and foot prints stained into the perfect whiteness; evidence of fleeing prey and an assailant. She’d never seen so much blood, and though she could not have known exact amount of spilled crimson in the snow, Clair knew in the pit of her stomach that the prey had not been able to escape death. She was determined, though, to cheat death’s grasp.
If I could only see where I was going I would have a better chance. I would know where the church is, Clair thought. But then again, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see. Perhaps, if she could see, she would realize that she’d made it to safety. Then again, a bigger part of her knew that she would not like what she saw if visibility cleared.
Suddenly, as if some unknown force had read her mind, the snow fall around her lessened, as if the wind had paused to catch its breath. Immediately, Clair could see much farther, and what she saw struck her with such an overpowering terror, she stood paralyzed. Dread boiled up in the pit of her stomach, churning around and growing into panic that rose up through her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her mouth dropped open as she realized that she’d come in a complete circle. She stood now in the middle of bloodied, spoiled snow.
Clair couldn’t be sure exactly what caused her to turn around, she could not remember hearing a sound over the wind, but it didn’t matter. Now facing the direction from which she’d come, Clair could see the shadowed figure slowly, but easily coming towards her. Tears of fear, anger and frustration welled and spilled from her eyes and her wind burned cheeks as they slid slowly towards her chin. The whole time, she’d been in a trap; the whole time, she’d been walking towards her fate, rather than away.
She could now see the glowing, piercing red eyes of her stalker, and felt and odd pain rising from her throat and in her ears. Clair did not realize she was screaming. There was no place to run. The fields were endless, it seemed. She’d tried her best to escape to the church, to hollowed ground, but she’d failed.
Clair fell to her knees; she could feel a burning, cold wetness seeping through her jeans. Her eyes squeezed shut. She tried to hug herself, as if attempting to put up a shield, a barrier to keep the attacker away, but she felt something wrap around her arm, pulling it roughly away from her body, leaving her feeling exposed.
The wind picked up again, and it howled and whistled around Clair. She could feel the painful, harsh pricks of snow against her cheeks and eye lids. Then, a horrible, sharp, slashing pain in her neck. Her last screams could not be heard over the howling wind. Her blood was hidden under the beautiful white snow.