Improv Writing

I knew as I passed through the hallway that I was being followed, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, the faint scuff of shoes on concrete. I knew that I was being followed.

Wildly, I searched myself, hoping that I had some something on me that I could use against my assailant. But I found nothing of use.

I wasn't even supposed to be in this part of town. I was supposed to be at home with my wife and kids, but she insisted that the groceries couldn't wait. 

The store closest to us was closed so here I was, on the dingy side of town, where the worst things happen. 

I saw a figure come around the corner, holding something sharp and I ran, abandoning my shopping cart.

I ran until I got a painful stitch in my side and I was sure that I had left the person far behind.

I bend over to catch my breath, and when I get back up a tall masked man with dark eyes is standing there.

"How-" I start to say but my words were cut off as he stabs my stomach with the object.

Pain explodes in my abdomen, and I can feel the stomach acid eating away at my flesh. Then man pushes me to the ground where I collapse and I know that I'm going to pass away, alone and afraid.

An image of my two daughters flit through my mind, their happy faces as they danced in the field near our house. My wife and her constant obsession with making food. And the pure love I can see in her eyes every time she looks at me. 

I sigh to myself and feel the pain fading away. Then everything goes black.