Trapped!

It’s just turned seven on Sunday evening, and it’s raining outside and bitterly cold. Your eyes keep shutting, despite your efforts to keep them open. You let the empty mug slide from your hand, landing on the floor with a clank, and you lie back on the sofa, ignoring the police helicopter that has begun to circle the neighbourhood again.

You drift off. Happier times. The perfect childhood you had. You dream that you’re on a camping holiday in the Yorkshire Dales. You relive the smell of the sun and grass. The scent of the sheep. The sausages that sizzled on the camp stove while your stomach rumbled with hunger. The deep Yorkshire sky is blue but rainy. You hear the crackle of lighting and then thunder.

The scene changes abruptly, creating prickles of fear. You’re a man now, walking home from the bus stop after the party last night and as you approach your flat, a figure comes out of the alleyway, towards you.