Creep

Chapter Eleven: A Time to Run

Mildred had never been the sort of person to run for any reason. If she ever had to be anywhere by a certain time, she always made sure she left as early as possible. Sometimes that meant she arrived at her destination far earlier than she needed to be there, but she'd rather be early than be late and have to run. As far as Mildred was concerned, running just wasn't natural.

But running was what she was doing now. And it was feeling like a very natural reaction to the scene she'd just witnessed.

There hadn't been time to mourn Stanley after his life was cut short by that floating axe. That would have to come later when the danger was gone. Instead of weeping next to her husband's body, Mildred had spun on her heel, grabbed the nearest object (which happened to be a frying pan), ran through the small house and out through the front door. She gripped the frying pan as she imagined knights might grip their swords, and readied herself to face whatever the night had to offer. The night outside was just as full of violence, with people fighting just about everywhere. Some of those faces she knew, some she didn't. She could only hope Angus was still out there somewhere. She couldn't face losing both her husband and her son in one single night.

Her lungs betrayed her and she had to stop to catch her breath at the end of a particularly dark street. Perhaps running was not so natural after all. Anything that led you to believe you were dying had to be bad for you. Reminding herself how to breathe, she gulped down as much air as her struggling body would let her. Around her, it was like Abyssus had opened up in Red Fern. Every few moments, the violence in the air would be amplified and Mildred couldn't help but think that soon there would be nothing else. In amongst the clanging of steel, the smashes, and the screams, Mildred heard a high-pitched laugh.

The laugh was so out of place that it caught her attention immediately. Trying to look everywhere at once, Mildred searched for the owner of the strange giggle.

She didn't have to look far. Even in the dark she could see the floating axe. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice struggling with exertion. "Don't come any closer! You've made a terrible mistake!"

"And why's that?" The strange voice and the floating axe came closer.

"My son's a soldier!" she all but screamed. If this had been a normal night, someone may have come to her aid. But this night was not normal. Everyone else was too busy to even look in her direction; they all had their own battles to fight.

Unhurried, the axe continued to bob along the gloomy street, heading towards her. "Oh, I know that. I've met young Angus. Lovely chap."

With that, the axe swung towards Mildred's face, she raised her frying pan and tried to bat it away. The weapons met with a deafening clang, causing her ears to ring. Somehow the frying pan had survived the attack, coming away with only a dent. To Mildred's disappointment, and complete lack of surprise, the axe was completely unharmed.

But the axe had to be held by something, didn't it?

Trying to ignore the weapon, she aimed her frying pan a little lower. There was a satisfying thunk as it made contact with whatever was down there. The owner of the strange voice and the stranger giggle muttered something incomprehensible but it seemed pissed off and that gave Mildred immense satisfaction. Face frozen in a deranged grin, she swung the frying pan at the same spot again.

Only this time, it didn't make contact.

This time, her opponent was ready. The axe moved far faster than she could swing the frying pan, cutting through the handle with relative ease. The pan clattered to the ground, singing the song of Mildred's defeat. Panicked, she threw the tiny scrap of handle that remained in her hand at her adversary. It bounced harmlessly off whatever was there and then dropped to the ground by her feet. Mildred watched it fall.