It wasn't the pitch black of the woods, it wasn't the cloying darkness. It wasn't the potential of crashing and not being found until daylight. It wasn't the peril of riding close to deep water, water covered with leaves that looked just like the trail ahead. It wasn't the swooping bird that seemed to narrowly miss my head, it wasn't the evil looking walker, in the middle of now where with seeming no destination looming at me out of the darkness.
It was the skittering of fast running clawed feet chasing me up the lane, the enormous teeth that were dripping drool and the gnarled hand reaching for my shoulder.
only it wasn't, it was a dry leaf blowing across the tarmac. I've never ridden that section of lane so fast!