How could one describe it?
The rush of adrenaline shooting through every single one of the blood vessels at once, making it nigh impossible to think. In such situation, one could either fight or take flight, charge head first like a raging bull into danger or run away. Jericho had never been a particularly brave teenager, this was all the more evident by the way and manner in which he tore through the streets of Brooklyn, artfully maneuvering his way over and around dumpsters and short fences.
How could one describe it? The conspicuous pounding of his heart inside his chest which he was sure could be heard a mile or two away. It was as though he was in a nightmare; one of those nightmares which oh so accurately blend with reality so much so that one could never actually establish a contrast between the two until when woken up. The only difference between that situation and this was that right now Jericho was a hundred and ten percent convinced that this wasn’t just any nightmare, this was a real life situation, one in which he was just a few inches away from death’s door.
”Bloody hell! How did things go south so fast?” these were the raspy words which managed to slip through his lips in between short breaths. After running what would seem like a few dozen blocks, while bounding through the backyard of a black duplex, Jericho rams a foot into a stump in the ground sending bolts of pain through the entirety of his body. This singular mishap was enough to stop the adrenaline driven teenager in his tracks, with an incoherent curse escaping his lips, his legs cave in and he finds himself crashing down to the Earth. The impact of the crash would not be felt as by this point he was only barely conscious. Through his almost completely closed eyes, he sees four pairs of legs walking ever so psychedelically toward him. They finally caught up to him- his pursuers. He could hear them talking over his head but could not make out a single word they said. This was it huh? The end. Honestly he had seen himself in the past dying in ways more spectacular ways than this, well at least he got to accomplish his life’s goals... wait...
”bloody hell I haven’t accomplished anything!”
An ear-deafening shot rang through the air. The executioners had finally bequeathed judgement.
YOU ARE READING
The Fourth Horseman.
Misterio / SuspensoThey say it only takes a moment for bliss to turn sour and for happy moments to become distant memories. Perhaps this is true in the tale of a young teenager overseas for the holidays. It only took one moment for what was supposed to be a normal ho...
