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 I often had the strange feeling of solitude that has me wondering if I am truly alone. After all, there was nobody in sight, but if felt like there was somebody always with me. Some would attribute this to a strange sense, perhaps a loose screw or two, but I believe it meant there was actually someone there that I couldn’t quite communicate with.
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 Groundskeeper Alan, a slouching old man from a bygone era, roamed the gardens protecting me from any intruders. Being of noble blood, but living so far from the common people. Thus, I didn’t understand why Alan was walking around the manor in the cold, dragging that brutish dog with him.
 The bus doors hissed and I took the opportunity to leave now. Somehow, I didn’t feel safe anywhere. Nowhere felt far enough from the darkened forest, the foreboding mountain. The cold mist seemed to sweep in and out of my life and with it I felt I saw dark figures watching me within.
 My legs began to ache and my constant heavy-breathing made my throat sore. However, to stop moving only seemed like a foolish idea in my own mind. I collected what fears I had and used them was my energy. It lasted me until I reached the town outside of the woods.
 When it came to commute back from the university, nobody was safe. People either lived alone or walked alone. Sometimes both, giving optimal time for a twisted mind to find an opening and take advantage of it. That must have been what happened to me, because I believe I was one of the lucky few made it through alive.
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