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Don’t Look Back

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge

Image by Me & ChatGPT

His lungs burned, each breath a ragged scrape of air that tasted like panic. Branches clawed at his arms as he tore through the undergrowth, roots snagging his ankles like the jungle itself was waiting for him to fall. Behind him, footsteps, closer now, unhurried, patient in a way that made his stomach lurch.

© Crispina Kemp



Then he saw it: a footbridge, arched and silver, spanning some unseen gap ahead. Safety. If he could just cross it….

He hit the planks at a dead sprint, boots hammering the metal grating, and burst through the tree line on the far side….

Only to stop dead.

No path. No road. No escape.

© Crispina Kemp

Just a still green swamp, choked with algae and rotting stems, stretching wide and silent in every direction. Duckweed shimmered like so many lies told in the promise of sunlight.


He turned, chest heaving, and the reality hit him like a boot in his gut: the bridge hadn’t led him to safety.


It had led him nowhere.

NAR©2026

This is “Run Through The Jungle” by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #098

Everything on The Elephant’s trunk was created by me, unless otherwise indicated, and is not to be used without permission. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.



15 thoughts on “Don’t Look Back”

      1. Coffee always seems like a good choice for me and the guy in your story was a runner, but I had no clue what he was running from, but your title made it seem like he did not want to be caught.

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