The Dare

I looked back, with uncertainty clouding my thoughts: maybe this was a bad idea after all. It hasn't even been a minute yet, and I'm already seeing things skittering around in the dark, waiting for me to make a wrong move. The windows on the house flickered as my determination had. One. I clutch my sword tight, bringing it closer. It was the only thing that I could count on now. Its cold, steel handle reassured me, if ever so slightly. Without it, I didn't know what I would do. Sixty seconds can really change a guy's mind. Two. I spun around. I thought I heard something creeping behind me, stalking me to the ends of these woods. I hoped that I was going insane, praying to God that I was: the dark, it was getting to me. Crawling into my head. I wondered if it was too late to turn back, run to my house. There, my friend would be waiting for me. Three. The darkness was suffocating me, trapping me in its shroud. It was getting hard to breath. I tried to focus on marching forward, but with every step I took I heard another tree groan, another branch crack. They're watching, somewhere out there. Watched as I stumbled around, blind. I shivered at the thought. Four. Almost there. My sword became slick in my hand, and I struggled to keep a hold on it. I can't lose the sword. It was my rope, my anchor: if I lost it, I might lose my grip on reality. That, or my life. To distract myself, I thought back to my last conversation. "It's dark outside," my friend said, peering out the window. "Not really," I reply. I sat behind him, enjoying the heat of the fireplace at the end of the room. He turned around, a devilish grin slowly reaching across his face. "You wouldn't last five minutes out there," he dared. "You're on."