The path was, as usual for any school with money to spare, bathed within etiquette placed street lanterns, I suppose they're going for that vintage – this place is old-as-hell décor – if that were the case, it worked.

If I had been wearing an 18th century gown with a neckband to match – then, perhaps I may have been properly attired; but, alas, I left that particular party dress at the goodwill after one years' Halloween party – I didn't have the hips to pull that over weighted pile of fabric off.

Steadily as my feet pawed the ground, the wind belled spontaneously again, it seems this is happening more often than perhaps the 'air' should be? Who I am – a meteorologist, that's surely a no; hell, I barely got myself through chemistry!

The limbs rattled and scrapped all along this rather pleasurable sauntering.

Leaves squished underneath my slip-ons; well, they're sneakers, but, I haven't appropriately laced them up since probably the day I got them.

A series of several hoots crescendo throughout the bleakness of the trees. I knew that it had to be some barred owl, watching from an unseen perch. The more forward steps I took, the more the calls became repetitive – minute after minute, step-by step, I began to have the creepiest feeling which lead to the sensational stinging from small of my back up to the tip-top of my neck.

To whom so ever experiences these said responses from the abounded environment, would guess something – or someone – was lurking not to off the beaten path from me: watching; pacing for some right moment.

It always astounds me with the question of what in the wholly-hell-world would they want with me, when there's a perfectly crafted individual to take up their evil needs with, and I, of course, would be more than tickled with wet panties, to shove them to her rather than mess with me – the mere human, who happens to have a heroin as her best friend.

Am I like the bait to the trophy – that alone, should make any ole one feel even crappier than with less worth than dangled-meat-bait? I mean, really?

With that recusant thought billowing through my brain, I stopped – arms instantly crossed – in stanched protest.

"Okay.... If you're looking for a fight, then, you've found the wrong person here.... try again.... that way!" I yelled while providing a pointed index finger back towards the diner – whether she was there or not – who knows; if I have no idea, why would this... it... err... thing have a clue?

A laugh erupted amongst the dark limps, shuddering the air above my stance. The star-less sky opened to instant severe weather; clashing wave-like shrouds; releasing, what seemed to be, gallons of rain; spitting as they fell ferociously around.

The hoots from before turned into what could only be interpreted as clinking, or hissing tunes fanatical in their outward projections.

This sudden change caused a hesitation to grow from agitated to all-out-aware that whatever I had verbally acknowledge wasn't on the look-out for the one, or of anyone in particular – I just happen to be out here.... alone.... unarmed; I'm a perfectly primed target.

So, I did what any other respected soul would do whilst engrossed in these self-faulted matters – I sprinted as willing to become like the wind.