Windkill

Stumbling against a tree, Bryon fell to the ground and lay gasping for breath. The monster had not followed or vanished. Either case was fine with him if he did not feel like he was in some low budget horror movie.

It was this valley; it gave him a sense of being detached from real life as if he had waked through a door to an alternate world that operated on a fresh set of physical rules. Even as he ran from the monster, Bryon knew the scenery was altering around him. Location had nothing to do with the change; time itself was shifting.

Gaining his breath, Bryon pulled a radio from his chest harness, the Velcro ripping apart loudly, and held it to his mouth.

“Dad, Mom? Is anyone out there?”

Static replied to the tentative question. The harsh edge of panic threatened to reclaim Bryon. What if he really was in the valley alone? Laughter echoed from the direction he had run. The monster found amusement in his plight.