DANSON PARK

BEXLEYHEATH,  KENT

JULY 3 2008

Richard's erratic heartbeat pounded ever faster within the walls of his pained chest as,  like fleeing prey from a predator snapping at his heels,  he ran as fast as his bare and bloodied feet would allow.

At last,   he thought to himself,   the nightmare would be over as,  up ahead in the distance, his bleary eyes still unaccustomed as they were to the daylight,   spotted the old painted steel gate at the end of the paving stoned pathway.

He swore he could feel his captor's breathe on his ear as he momentarily stopped to pull open the solitary gate,  but was far too afraid to turn around and look.   It creaked and groaned as if expressing tones of agony, draining every ounce of strength within him to pull it wide enough to make his escape.

 Pushing through the gate with expectations of freedom high and foremost,   he suddenly stopped in his tracks,  his heart sinking as,  hands on hips,  he tried to suck in lungfuls of air and comprehend the madness and chaos of the predicament.

Before him lay a mirror image of the driveway down which he had attempted to flee,   lined with lush green foliage and leading inexplicably to the same dark,  gothic house of insanity in which he had been held captive these past days.

Dejected, he turned around, still fighting for air,  and witnessed in the distance, the footsteps of his tormentor slowly meandering down the pathway towards him.

Would this nightmare never end!