Charlie sprinted as his mind screamed. What’s wrong with his eyes?

The boy threw a glance over his shoulder. There he was, still smirking. His grin was too toothy, but Charlie wouldn’t think about this until much later.

The man’s face was painted in the fashion of a witchdoctor; white and black. He wore an old Victorian suit, with a cane and a top hat to match.

The man wasn’t running. Just ambling, casually – as if out for an evening stroll. Yet, whenever Charlie stole a look behind him, the distance between them was always the same.

Always there.

This is part ten of a larger story for Halloween. All sections are in the form of a 99-word story. Check back tomorrow for part eleven!

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