Flash Fiction, a short story written in 100 words or less.

One. Two.
I can hear him coming, the click-clack of his feet hitting the ground, purposeful but soft.

Three. Four.
My heart is beating faster and faster.

Five. Six.
There is nowhere to hide.

Seven. Eight.
I don’t know what to do. What can I do?

Nine. Ten.
He is here.

Eleven. Twelve.
He can see me.

Thirteen. Fourteen.
He is coming closer.

Fifteen. Sixteen.
He is smiling, mouth stretched wide with hard eyes.

Seventeen. Eighteen.
My palms are sweaty, adrenaline is making me sick. I can’t get away.

Nineteen. Twenty.
He is here.
He is here.

This is it.