Another short story inspired by a picture tweeted out by @nmamot here https://twitter.com/nmamot/status/513176874286350337

I look at my feet.  Focus on putting one foot in front of the other.  They say that “slow and steady wins the race” and I’m starting to believe them.  Whoever “they” are.

I can’t afford to stumble on these steps again.  I glance back over my shoulder.  I can only see about a hundred yards back and then the stairs disappear into the fog.  But I can hear it.

Somewhere in the fog I hear the beast breathing.  Climbing the stairs behind me.

I feel myself start to stumble so I grab the wooden rail.  Got to stay focused.

I turn to face forward and make my way up the stairs.  How much longer do they go?  Same as behind me, I can only see a hundred yards or so.  Then the stairs disappear into the fog.

I try to calm my nerves by thinking about something besides the creature behind me.

This staircase is in the middle of the mountains, the drop if I were to fall has to be thousands of feet.  But why are there stairs here?  They are nearly perfectly formed.  They show signs of having been here for year, centuries maybe.  But who would have built them?

My heart is given a little hope when I see that a flat spot is coming up.  I resist the urge to run to it and clear the last few steps and reach a dirt path.  My shoulders fall as I see that the stairs start up again after only a few yards.

I keep moving forward when my foot hits something.  Bones.  A skull.  The are scattered in the middle of the path, all broken.  But I know what they are.  This is not the first set of remains I have passed.  I originally was counting, but after the sixth one I decided to stop.

I’m sure each of these people suffered a terrible death at the…hands?  Claws?  Something.  That beast that is following me has killed them all.

The beast!  I hear clicking on the stairs now and the breathing is getting louder.  I better get moving.

I hustle down the path and start climbing the next set of stairs.