The tree canopy absorbed all but the most persistent rays of moonlight. What little broke through seemed to drip to the ground like raindrops on a winter’s day, leaving only small pools of light on the forest floor. Charlotte ran, splashing through them with little thought and no concern. She was comfortable in the movements, honed as they were by countless nights of repetition.
Then, she was far less comfortable.
Her foot caught on one of the pools. She fell to the floor, a tangle of leaves and mud and Lycra-clad limbs. A glow came from behind her, it had grown bigger when she fell. Charlotte traced out the edges of the light. It seemed cool and metallic and gave way to nothing. A trapdoor. It hadn’t been there before, she was certain of that.
Peering in, Charlotte gasped. It was all she could do. Then, she was gone.
The Write Site 