Passionfruit
Ba-thump.
"You should have ran when you had the chance."
Blood thumped in Jacob's temples. He pressed himself further against the desicrated oak. Hoping to blend in. Hoping to not be found.
"But now it's a bit too late, don't you think?"
A shiver ran involuntairly down his spine. Cold sweat beaded along his brow, broke, slid down his chin.
"Oh, Jacob, Jacob, Jacob...."
Eerily, wraithlike, the voice slid from among the trees. Jacob's eyes darted feverishly around the Dark Wood; he saw no trace of his pursuer.
Something tightened on his waist; hands of ebony grabbed at him, pooling his shirt and pants into tight wads in their palms.
He felt his breath on his cheek, but he felt no warmth from it. Lips of ice pressed against his cheek. Jacob shut his eyes.
"I loved you."
-----------------------
"Mr. Heralds, would you mind explaining why you're moaning in the middle of my secratic seminar...?"
Jacob Heralds sat up with a start, sending paper and pen alike clattering to the floor. Mr. Krevorkovich stood menacingly at his podium, grasping his meter stick so tight the blood vessel in his fist began to swell.
(And....That's all I have for now. (: )
