“Fantasium” is still in the process of being written, but currently what I give below is the first chapter of the book:
In a state of hysterical fear, a young woman wearing a worn-out, ripped-up, filthy, white, one-piece dress made of itching wool runs over the mucky soil of a dense, but dead, forest. She stumbles over protruding roots and hearty weeds, expression wild. Her skin marred by mud and various cuts and bruises in differing stages of healing. Her long, matted hair, like an angry fire flickering wildly from her head, ruffles in the breeze and bobs with her frantic movements.
The female, appearing no older than a teenager, breathes heavily yet quickly; it is raspy, and her ample chest heaves greatly. Using beaten, yet still very feminine, hands, she pushes herself forward as fast as she can; as fast as her long, slender legs will take her.
Somewhere, an angry mountain crackles. She won’t stop to look.
She won’t stop, even when she’ll become tired and too weary to carry on. She won’t look back to see if anyone’s pursuing her. She doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t know where she’s headed – she cares not about that, for so long as she heads away from where she’d been held captive for so long. That is all she cares about.
She escaped her prison this time, but it’ll be coming for her. Stalking her by day and haunting her by night. Not until she can manage to leave this hell for good. But, who knows when that may be…
Every noise, though most are from her own self, is frightening. Every little sound threatens to be a menace out to seize her up again. Every light an eye watching her. Every slight motion an enemy ready to strike. That dark, dank, deep that held her hostage for so long. It forces her to continue running, even when her body wants to collapse and die.
Despite herself, tears build up in her large, emerald eyes, and begin trickling down her cheeks. She’s never been so terrified. So vulnerable. So mortal…
Happy New Year! 🙂