On the run from It.

Waves crashed onto the jagged rocks, churning the foaming water. The clouds had come to watch its wrath, darkening the pale blue sky. They fed it with tiny droplets, but the sea roared with greed. It wanted more. Soon, the droplets became larger and larger. Satisfied with the rain, it seemed to fall into slumber once more. However, the clouds were relentless. They continued to pour more and more water onto the ocean, and it seemed as though it would never end. The unforgiving cold numbed my toes. But I had to keep going. Ever since that night, I knew someone, or something was coming for me. I hurried out of the household, only to be greeted by my parents, who asked where I was going, armed with all the Tolkien books I owned. Pure terror filled me when I peered over their shoulders. As I thought of these last moments with my mum and dad, that same feeling of dread overwhelmed me. I saw something lurking in the shadows. ‘You should at least get away from this place,’ my mind told me. ‘Go back, go back home! You don’t have to stay here.’ I stayed there for a few minutes, arguing with myself, telling me why it would be a good idea to go back, but also telling myself why it could turn out to be the worst idea possible.
“No. I need to go forward.”
The sea was the only way to get away from the creature, and hopefully keep it away for good. Going back to London would mean it would find me; I shuddered at the thought. I got onto the makeshift raft I made (if I could even call it that) and tried to make my way away from the sandy shore, but I was pushed back. I was too late. An invisible wall lay before me, but I thought I could just about see a black figure. I was frozen with fear, and the horror of what was happening to me made me stop thinking anything except for one word. It came closer, and closer until it was so close, I could feel its breath blowing onto my face. “Nazgul.” I murmured faintly before slipping into what felt like an abyss.