Sarah Woodward

The Other Doorway

Kelsy ran as if the hounds of hell were at her heals. Which, they were. She felt the heart-shaped locket pounding hard on her chest with each stride, mirroring the beat of her own as she gasped for air. She pumped her arms, willing her legs to move faster. The pack was so close, their blood-soaked saliva dripped on the backs of her bare legs like intermittent rain.