Sometimes, I write...

I was going through an old notebook and found this story fragment. I may expand upon it and rewrite sections at some point. Anyways, I thought it was interesting and worthy of a share. Mind you, it's pretty much a draft and has no title or real ending. 

I hope you enjoy it.

Every once in a great while, someone will have a life-altering experience. This is a story of one such time.
Allow me to elaborate.
My name is... or was... or perhaps shall be... Cassandra Evelyn Demas. I was a secretary in a law firm in Nevada. The other staff and I got along very well and often did favors for each other. We were a closely knit unit. That is, until something happened.
I was on my way to the bagel shop across town for lunch when the sun suddenly went dark and I felt a strange sensation. I seemed to be in two distinctly different places and two different bodies at once. I was, of course, Cassandra getting lunch, but I was also some sort of animal in a forest. I could feel my feet on the undergrowth, all four of my feet, and smell the wood teeming with life all around me. Then it was gone and I was left dazed. I sat for a moment to collect my senses before continuing on.
Once I got back to the office and entered my unit, I was greeted by a scene witch I will not soon forget. Every last person down to the mail carrier had been murdered, their blood smeared upon the walls and tables.
Several thoughts ran through my head at once, but above all was the mind bending urge to run. Run, or they may suspect me of this atrocity.
The next thing I fully recalled was a highway in the middle of the night. My car had run out of gas and I was forced to pull over to wait out the night. I did not sleep well, for the dreams I had were unusual and terrifying. Sometimes, I would be back at the office when the killers came and be killed myself. Other dreams were of that odd wood and my other form.
Dawn had come and gone when I awoke to a police officer tapping my window. He offered to take me to the nearest gas station some five or six miles down the road to fill my spare container. I thanked him and kindly accepted. Once I was mobile again we went our seperate ways.
I drove most of the day before coming to a town I felt comfortable staying the night in. It was smaller than the town I had left, but larger than some I had passed. I got a room at one of the hotels and, after settling in, I returned to the lobby to inquire as to where I may find a nearby clothing store.
The clerk, seeing my state of dress which was once sharp but now shabby, directed me to what he called a "high end dress shop" just a few blocks away. After thanking him, I decided to walk the short distance rather than drive.
It was a beautiful evening as I stepped out of the hotel. The air was just changing tones from balmy summer to crisp autumn. I inhaled deeply as I caught the scent of the last blooms of the season and began my short sojourn.
As I walked, I almost forgot the events of yesterday, which now seemed so long ago, and I began to daydream. In the midst of my musings I found that I was once again in that other place and form yet still myself. I stopped, closing my eyes to fully experience that strange duality. When the feeling passed I found that I was standing before an enormous wrought iron gate and fence surrounding a seemingly eldritch mansion.
I watched the overgrowth sway in the breeze that sprang up, and heard the tinkling of an old windchime. Then I saw it. A bright, almost neaon, yellow streak darted across the ground. I leaned in for a better look, curiosity getting the better of caution, and in doing so pushed the gate open. I was surprised that it was not locked, and doubly so that it swung open without a noise.
Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped onto the grounds of the mansion and made my way to the place I had seen the color. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it again, that same unnatural yellow, but this time, it was headed toward the front door. I altered my course, hoping beyond hope that I would not have to enter that gaping aperture.