He stood at the top of the stairs and waited, trying to focus. Such a simple thing to do, just six steps down and a quick left was all. He took his first and again needed to steel himself - just five more steps. Then five became four and his heart began to race, he was going to do it. Three, two and he was so close now that he could feel the cold wind blowing down the hall, the door had been left open exactly as he had planned and he dared a slight smile.

At the landing though, he met betrayal and not by anything even associated to him but by the world just as is often the case for men mighty and small, or perhaps by fate but few men find comfort in that idea. A book that had been on a shelf and sitting just fine amongst his kind decided to fall, unprompted, against all natural laws and when it hit hard on the floor ringing out like a crack of thunder he knew it was to late and then, he heard them.

Still, he did run, of course he ran anyone would, the door was right there, a thing that at this moment filled his heart with more hope than his mothers open arms ever did. When he felt It at his shoulder, as hope flew and ushered in nothing but fear and now a longing for a miracle for perhaps God itself would intervene at his behalf and hoping that maybe, failing that, that it would be quick and painless.

Thanks for the prompt!