| A First-Draft Sample |
2003-06-27, 10:42 p.m. |
| Her hands were on fire from her long flight deep into the bowels of the complex. Luckily, many of the wan lights illuminating the descending, crumbling stairs were in disrepair, offering relative safety in their resultant shadow. Rivulets of sweat acted as an apothecary, mixing bits of rust, smears of fungus, and dark blood issuing from scratches and cuts -- all received from that damned decaying metal railing. And yet that railing was her lifeline. She knew that should she slip and fall, her dream would die with her crumpled body in the shadows an unknown depth below. Grinding her teeth to choke off the pain, Annea reached for the railing and pulled herself to her feet. "Canna seep, must keep runnin'," Annea thought, as she listened carefully for any hints of pursuit. |
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