As the cool morning air swept across my face, my first instinct was to get up and close the window. Why was the window open anyway? I wondered. I usually lock the window before I would go to sleep. But as I felt the surface beneath me, my eyes flew open. I was not in my bed. I was not in my bedroom. I was in the middle of an asphalt road.
How did I get here? Have I been sleepwalking again?
I haven’t sleepwalked for years. No one knew why the sleepwalking stopped. I guess everyone just accepted as a miracle.
Sitting up, a pain hit me like nothing I have experienced. The bottom-half of my nightgown was torn to shreds and in the dim morning light, I saw the long, deep, jagged marks on my right leg. Slowly, I ran my fingers over them. They burned and stung like hell.
What in the world happened?
Slowly, I got up. There, in the dense morning fog, I saw a pair of glowing red eyes.
I am participating in Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer, where we write a piece between 100 and 150 words (more or less 25 words) in length inspired by the photo prompt above.