Sunday Short: Running Partner

Sabrina lived by the clock.

Up at 4 a.m., laces tied by 4:15, hitting the road by 4:45. While others were still wrapped in their blankets, she was already chasing the cool morning air, tracking her splits, and proudly posting her routes online. Ever since the suffocating days of MCO, running had been her escape, her freedom.

So when a new job moved her to the outskirts of town, Sabrina thought she’d struck gold. No more honking cars, no dodging motorcycles, no polluted city streets, just quiet, peaceful roads. Perfect for running.

Her first week went smoothly. On Saturday morning, she laced up as usual, slipped on her open-ear headphones, and set off. The town was still asleep, the only sound her steady 5.2 pace footfalls against the asphalt.

Until she heard another set of footsteps.

They were heavy, urgent as if someone was chasing her.

A quick glance over her shoulder showed another runner. Relief washed over her. A kindred spirit. Maybe even a future running buddy. For a moment, she fantasized about side-by-side training sessions, sharing gels and laughs during long runs.

Still, a sliver of doubt lingered. What if it wasn’t safe?

She looked again. The stranger was in proper running attire. That was good enough for her. She slowed slightly, waiting for them to catch up.

But the footsteps stopped.

The road behind her was empty.

Frowning, she kept going. Maybe they’d turned off somewhere. She refocused on her pace, her breathing, the rhythm of her playlist.

Then came the downhill stretch. The lamps here were sparse, casting long, eerie shadows across the road. Sabrina slowed, careful not to strain her knees. That’s when she froze.

The same runner from earlier was at the bottom of the hill. Already ahead of her.

Her mind scrambled for logic. Maybe there were two of them? Perhaps a running club? She squinted. No, it's the same outfit and the same frame.

The runner’s legs pumped in place, but the body wasn’t moving forward. Instead, impossibly, it was getting closer to her.

Sabrina’s stomach dropped. She stopped, panic sparking in her chest.

Before she could react, the figure suddenly sprinted backward up the hill, straight toward her.

She spun, bolting up the incline, lungs burning. Her legs pumped faster than they ever had, heart screaming in her chest. When she reached the top, she dared to look up...

And there it was.

The runner was already waiting for her. Bloodied. Disfigured. A grotesque grin stretched across its broken face.

“Want to run together?” it rasped.

The world blurred.

---

Sabrina woke under harsh white lights, the antiseptic smell of the emergency ward filling her nose. A nurse told her she’d been found unconscious on the roadside, brought in by a passing motorcyclist. When asked what had happened, she only muttered something about being exhausted.

The next day, whispers spread through town. Years ago, a runner had been killed in a hit-and-run on that very hill. The culprit was never caught. Locals claimed the victim’s spirit still haunted the road, seen pacing the same route in the pre-dawn hours.

And now, Sabrina knew. The phantom wasn’t running to escape. It was running to find someone to keep pace.

---

Be careful who you run with in the dark, you may never outrun them.