Fear Quickwrite

--Note: This story is probably not my favourite, but my editor partner person seemed to like it. Please do me a favour and avoid judging me. Thanks :) --

I was walking down a lonely path, admiring the brightly coloured leaves that hung from the tall trees around me. My burgundy converse lightly fell against the dirt trail, the deep red colour blending quite nicely with the reds and yellows of the leaves scattered across the ground. It was a rather nice day, autumn sunlight glimmering down through the crisp air. Being the introvert I am, I had been content to walk the winding trails that circled my neighbourhood in solitude. In hindsight, perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. I’m not saying I would’ve been any less scared if I had been with someone. Maybe it would’ve been worse. Regardless, I was scared. For some odd reason I’ve recently developed an odd sense of paranoia about walking/running/riding on horseback/traversing through nature or wooded areas. It’s actually quite dumb, I know. But as I walked along the cheery path, a rustling noise from the trees jarred me from my quiet thoughts. It was a quiet noise, nothing even remotely alarming. However, it struck me as more than just the wind rushing through the trees or a bird taking flight. No, that was a human-kind-of rustling. I kept walking, what else could I do? If I acted as though I hadn’t heard, maybe I’d be safe. Heart beating in my ears, I continued along the path. Against my will, my footsteps quickened slightly, the crunching of dirt beneath my shoes the only sound in the quiet air. Only moments before, the silence had comforted me, but now it filled my mind, adding to my anxiety. I endured several minutes of this, my gaze darting around from one shadow to another. The anticipation slowly built up, nearly giving me a heart attack as another rustling noise shattered the silence. Eyes widening, I couldn’t stop myself from turning this time. Fear coursed through me, irrational fear. It was irrational, right? How could I be afraid of- My heart stopped as I saw a branch move, swaying in the wind. 

--As I said, pathetic. Yes. I was scared of a branch. But please understand that it wasn't the branch. It was the whole idea of what it could be. So... this story is surprisingly unexaggerated. I may have changed a few minor details for the benefit of the story, but other than that, yeah. Feel free to laugh at me in the comments.--