Sarah

The last practice of the season had just ended, and **Sarah**, a beautiful young cheerleader, was walking home, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her pom-poms tucked inside. The setting sun cast long shadows, and a cool breeze rustled the leaves. She felt a shiver, but it wasn't from the cold. A feeling of being watched prickled the back of her neck. She picked up her pace, glancing over her shoulder. A figure, barely visible in the deepening twilight, seemed to be keeping an equal distance behind her. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She quickened her steps, almost a jog now. The figure mirrored her speed. Panic seized her. She darted down a side street, hoping to lose him, but when she risked another look, he was still there, a persistent shadow. Reaching her front door, fumbling with the keys, she burst inside, locking the door and leaning against it, her chest heaving. Through the peephole, she saw him standing on the sidewalk, just watching her house, a faint, unsettling smile on his face.