​Literally got into writing on a whim on a post I saw

First proper piece I’ve written as an adult, so it’s short and sweet.

A cold wind blows off the Loch, and I know for sure it’s too late. I bound through the dense undergrowth of ferns blanketing the forest floor, the trees violently attacking each other with each gust of fiery ice. The cold air burns my lungs like the blaze of my torch, guiding me through the labyrinth of trees and false paths.

The forest widens, I see the Loch. A desperation grips me, telling me to turn around and run. I grip my torch tighter and run faster to the Lochs clearing. I can feel it, the deep. Why today? Why now? Why does the wheel stop at me? Why does the wind talk to me.

I clear through the last remaining trees, the wind whips me and lashes me, darkness has consumed the last of the daylight now, cloaking me in an opaque shroud that shallows me whole. Despite the surrounding chaos and harsh environment, the Loch remains eerily calm. Waves gently lap at my ankles, my knees before finally the shroud blackens completely.