Describe this image from the perspective of a frightened adventurer in search of a weapon because they're being followed. Writer's Prompt 3/13/2021

 Always just outside my sight. Never there when I look directly at them. But I know. I know someone or something is following me. I dropped my dagger when I tripped over, over NOTHING! There had been nothing to trip over! I looked. The ground was flat, nobody was within arms length of me, there was nothing for me to trip over. I scrambled to my feet as quick as I could because I could feel them, it, whatever, something, someone? getting closer. Patting myself down quickly I realize that my dagger wasn't in its sheath. While I tried to figure out how it could have possibly fallen out I skim the ground around me looking for it.  Where is it? I take enough time to spin a circle looking on the ground. It is nowhere. Crap, crap, crap, crap! No, no, I need a weapon, I need to be able to protect myself. I shake my fist as I look for somewhere that looks safe and I could possibly buy a replacement weapon. Whatever is following me wont follow me into a building full of people right? I'll be safe inside somewhere, they will go away right? 

I'm out of time. I need to do something NOW.

I notice a warm light to my left as someone leaves a building and zip over as fast as I can brushing the person exiting and the other holding the door.  They might have said something, but really, I don't hear them. 

In fact, I don't hear anything other than the door shutting behind me. Warm light, lots of people, but the people look wrong the more I look at them. They aren't moving, why is everybody so still. I walk further into the room and things just get weirder.

And then I realize it, those aren't people. Those are cutouts. 

I walk to the blue one and yeah, not a person, just a realistically well painted cutout. I start to panic, are any of them real? SOMEONE HAS TO BE REAL. Oh please, let someone be real, let someone be able to help me.

And then I hear laughing and realize there is someone real. The door man. That laugh does not sound friendly. 

I grab for the dagger, which is thankfully real and spin around holding it at the ready with shaking hands, watching him open the door to let in whatever has been following me.