Proctor held on for as long as his strength would allow. The brunette's strength was almost that of two grown men. Her contorted features became more manic with each lunge she took at him. It was a dance that he didn't want to partake in. He wanted to get on his horse and just leave this hellish fever dream.
He backed himself up against the old wooden barn. He felt something hard pressed against his shoulder. It was a pitchfork. He quickly reached for it andgrabbed it with both hands. He turned around just in time to see her lunging towards him.
He held on tight and closed his eyes, thinking that her monstrous face would be the last thing he saw before he met his maker. He heard her stop mid scream. He opened one eye with trepidation. Then he opened the other. She was a mere inch away from his sweaty face.
