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| Written by Cody OBryant | |
| Monday, 02 June 2008 | |
 Run By: Cody O'Bryant
"Dear Reader, Don't be afraid, We're just going to play A nice little game.
Don't worry, You'll be okay, As long as you Don't try and run away"
Darkness looms over everything; when one lives in a city with no more than one-thousand people, there is no light but that of the moon and starts. In fact, it is the silver light of tonight's full moon that shows the terror on your panic stricken face. It is the steady lengthening impressions of feet on the grass that show how worried you are. The beads of drops on your forehead show the quickness of your pace. The movements of your eyes (back and forth, back and forth) show your attentiveness to your surroundings. I see of all this, and I understand exactly what's going on in your mind. I know every step you're going to take three steps before you take it. I knows you're about to run...
You can feel your heart pounding as it slowly climbs up your throat. You know that someone is there; you just haven't been able to see them yet. You risk another glance back over your right shoulder and swear you saw a blurry outline dart into the shadows. You pick up your pace as you begin to fast walk. You try to breathe as quietly as possible. ‘I can't let him hear me,' is the first thought that goes zipping through your brain. Soon you can't control your mind anymore, and thoughts like: ‘I can't even begin to fathom why I wanted to go for a walk at ten o'clock at night,' and ‘I could've sworn that I heard something on the news about a serial killer braking out of jail, but wasn't that in the town over? -' follow. Then, one particularly vivid thought jumps to attention, ‘I'm going to die! Please, God, I don't want to die!' All of the sudden you're shaken from your trance by the sound of a cough from not even ten feet behind you. As quick as you can, you turn around and spot him before he can hide. He stands up straight, and forms a smile on his lips. You meet eyes with him, and in his you can see the hunger, the hunger for you. You turn and run. You run, run, run, run. With adrenaline as your guide, you run faster than it is thought to be humanely possible. With the wind at your back, you're propelled forward. ‘Please, God, I don't want to die,' thumps through your head again, and then, ‘What kind of weapon does he have? A knife, an ax, a chainsaw? I know it can't be a gun because he would've shot me already, right? What if he's going to kill me as slowly as possible?-torture me so I scream in pain?' After five minutes of continuous sprinting, these thoughts quiet down, and you begin to hope. ‘Nothing can stop me; I'm running as fast as the wind, no faster!' You keep running, running, running; you throw a glance back over your shoulder and smile, ‘there's nothing there, nothing to stop me, nothing-' Your feet smacks a rock, sending you sprawling to the pavement; skinning your hands and knees, and banging your head into the pavement, you black out. You come to a minute later, and, after you realize what has happened, begin a long, agony-filled scream. Your voice echoes around the world, but one is louder. Your hunter screams "Shut the **** up!" in a ruff, gnarled voice. You silence your screams, and struggle to your feet, shaking uncontrollably as you do so. You turn around and see he has slowed to a walk. Your heart skips a beat as you see him pull out a twelve-inch, crescent-shaped dagger. As the smile reforms to his lips, and the hunger reappears in his eyes, you turn and run (or whatever it is you call moving fast when all you can do is limp). You run, run, run, run - ‘Please, God, I don't want to die!' - Not learning from your mistakes, you chance a glance over your shoulder, and see him gaining on you, so you take a chance, and turn down the first alley you come upon, hoping you can hide in the dark. ‘This is absolutely the dumbest thing I could have possibly done,' instantly pops into your head as you realize that you have no idea where you are. You take a nice, long look around looking for any signs of help, and spot a creek. ‘What the hell? -' you think as you climb down the bank. The cold, rushing water stings your wounds, and as you look down, you see the water turn dark from your blood. You wade for half an hour before you finally take a break to just listen to what's going on around you. After five minutes of hearing nothing but the water, you form the idea that you are safe, and start scrambling up the bank. Just before you reach the top, you hear a cough and a barely audible "****." You climb faster, and as soon as your feet hit flat ground, you take off running. You're ecstatic when you see a small intersection that pretty much screams; "Only half a mile to your house!" You run, run, run, run - ‘Please, God, I don't want to die!' - This time, you don't allow your hope to rise. Never looking back, you run. You stop a block from your house and look around. Your senses are on high alert, watching for any slight movement; listening for even the faintest sound; smelling for bloodlust. When you're finally convinced you're home free, you take off and run. You arrive a minute later at your doorstep, and with a shaking hand, you pull your key out of your pocket, slide it into the lock, and turn- The cold blade on your left cheek chills you to your soul. The voice though, that rough, dead voice, is a thousand times worse as it fills you with the knowledge of no return, as he laughs, "Ha, ha, ha; ever hear the saying you can run, but you can't hide?" - ‘Please, God, I don't want to die!'- Copyright 2008 Cody OBryant |
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| Last Updated ( Thursday, 05 June 2008 ) |
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