Labyrinth — Diane Stevens

It was late afternoon when I got back to the top of the Falls. I rested for a while, bathing my face with the cool water from the stream. Then I wandered over to stand near the brink of the Falls. The creek rushed, bubbling and churning, over the precipice. Relaxing in the sun, I let myself be mesmerized for a moment by the quickly flowing water.

I didn't hear the noise until it was too late. It took me a moment to collect myself, and then I began to turn slowly so that all I saw was a shapeless figure, its face completely covered by the kind of pullover mask bank robbers wear, and the dark, gloved hands which reached out to push me over the Falls.

I jerked violently to the side, the hands shoving against my shoulder instead of my back as the killer had intended, and I stumbled as I tried to get out of the way. My ankle twisted and I saw the ground coming up to meet me and then, blissfully, I knew nothing more…