Superstitious

'Dont' step on the cracks in the pavement or the bears will get you!' whispers a memory in Dom's mind. He halts before the paving slabs, lifting a foot and planting it squarely in the middle of a slab. He continues forward, watching the tread of his feet, ever so careful never to even get close. He swallows hard as the terrain changes, and the slabs are just bricks, twisting in patterns across the floor. He has no choice, there is no other way.

He tiptoes, careful, slow, measured and precise, feeling that lurking, hulking, dark shape caught in the beginning of his shadow, waiting, just waiting for him to fail, so it can consume him. The bears will get him if he fails, they will, they will and he doesn't want to die.

"Dom, geez, hurry up!" He glances up and wobbles momentarily, heart stuttering absurdly, fear flickering across his face. A look of annoyance flickers over his companion's face, an irritated sigh escaping. "Just walk Dom. Nothing will happen."

Dom scowls and shakes his head, looking back down, intense concentration on his face. The others waiting grumble as he continues his slow and careful pace.
"I've had it, come on!" A hand wraps around Dom's wrist and yanks, hard. Dom's face is stricken, he panics, yells, tries to balance, and his foot falls down hard, right across on of the gaps. His heart stops, his eyes wide. He jerks away onto a patch of grass, shuddering and shaking, looking almost in pain.

The others roll their eyes and walk away.
"See Dom," one says as he begins to follow, "You're fine." Dom drags his feet, hands trembling, glancing about him. The shadows were taking shape and looming, clawing roughly at his skin, cold breaths of devilish creatures skimming across his neck. He's waiting for them. It's too later now anyway, though that doesn't reduce the fear, the horror.

Agony rips through him and he lets out a breathless cry of pain, the shadows and dark consuming him as he watched the others keep walking, sight fading to darkness.

Someone turns as they begin to speak,
"Dom, it's fine the cracks in the..." They stop, mid-sentence, looking at the crumpled, bloodied form sprawled on the pavement, skin torn as though by claws, an odd darkness lingering around Dom's still form.

Don't step on the cracks in the pavement, or the bears will get you...