More three minute flash fiction, and thanks again to Dan Mader and his blog for the inspiration, the motivation and the opportunity to inflict more words on people. For want of a better title, this one is called Presence. Like the Led Zeppelin album, not the things you unwrap at Christmas. Or, actually, whatever you want it to be—now it's left the confines of my skull, it's fair game. These tiny pieces come from somewhere buried; no planning, no editing. Just words bubbling from the subconscious like dreams.
It followed me. Soon as I found the trailhead and set one hiking booted foot on the damp mulch and root-strewn path, I felt its presence. An animal? I don't know, I never saw it. Whatever followed me was crafty smart, blending into the fractured barcode woods, melding with banners of mist, chuckling alongside creek beds. No doubt it enjoyed my pain as I struggled up the mountain, raw with lung burst, heart hammer and quadricep quiver. I could feel its glee, its grin of triumph, knowing each step took me closer to its awful stretched maw. And when I became lost, its eagerness was rapid warm gusts on the back of my neck. But I found my way, and next time I'll be stronger and will know more. It sits here now, in the darkest corner of my basement, pouting, sulking, knowing it cannot lose but nevertheless will have to wait.