Nyctophilia (n.)

Love of darkness or night.

Finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.

The clock was ticking. She could hear it, echoing between the trees in the gaping silences between her breaths and her footsteps.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Louder than her heartbeat, rushing in her ears; more terrifying than the horror stories she had heard about this place, passed around on campfires in hushed voices and returning in moments of innocent silence, turning every creak of a floorboard into a threat. Ghosts, witches, spirits - all the things that once wandered through her nightmares - all seemed to fade to insignificance in the terrible shadow of now.

How long had she been running? Her legs had given up complaining long ago, and now just pretended that they weren't suffering the most pain thry had ever suffered. An icy numbness filled her, the aching, clawing fear the only thing she could still feel. Her veins no longer pumped blood, but liquid terror. She breathed adrenaline.

The forest began to get denser. Trees crowded in towards her, their branches reaching out to pull at her hair and tear thin lines of red-hot pain in her face. Roots twisted up to trip her, and her own agility surprised her as she dodged them.

Every breath ripped at her lungs. Every step took everything out of her.

But the clock ticked.

And so she ran.

a/n: shortest prologue ever. but, hey, kudos to me for hella intrigue and mystery, amiright?

(sorry not sorry)

anyway, although this entire chapter seems completely unrelated to anything even a little bit Hunger Games-y, this is, in fact, an syot. so, pm me for the form & other details and that. make sure you let me know which tribute you want to reserve (and i'll let you know if it's taken or not) and offff wee goooo...

p.s: updates will happen when i get enough tributes for updating to be worth it. :)

p.p.s: luv ya all

k byeee