Nocturnal escape

In the dimly lit streets of a forgotten city, he ran, his breath like a tempest. His footsteps echoed hollowly on the asphalt as shadows nipped at his heels. He didn’t know why he was fleeing, only that he had to. The night enveloped him like a black cloak, and the moon watched from behind a veil of clouds.
His heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm of fear and adrenaline. There was no time to think, only to run. The streets were deserted, the windows of houses like dark eyes tracking his movements. He passed abandoned playgrounds, rusted swings swaying gently in the wind. The lampposts blinked like silent witnesses to his flight.
What was he running from? He couldn’t remember anymore. Perhaps his own shadow, which seemed to chase him relentlessly. Or the ghosts of his past, never allowing him respite. It didn’t matter. All that counted was the darkness, the cold that clung to his skin, the ground slipping away beneath his feet.
He sprinted past derelict factories, their chimneys like gray fingers reaching for the sky. The scent of rust and decay hung in the air. His lungs burned, but he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not here.
And then, suddenly, a bridge loomed ahead. An old, rusted bridge spanning a gaping chasm. He hesitated for a moment, glanced back, but the shadows were still there. He had no choice. He ran onto the bridge, his feet slipping on the wet metal.
Midway across, he looked down. The abyss was deep, its bottom invisible. But he couldn’t turn back. Not now. He closed his eyes and leaped.
The fall seemed endless. His stomach churned, his heart pounding in his throat. And then, just as he thought he would be crushed, the darkness opened up and caught him. He floated, weightless, surrounded by stars and night.
And there, in that silent emptiness, he finally found peace.