It’s too dark. I can’t see anything. I can’t feel anything. Everything hurts, but I can’t feel it. I mean, I can feel it, but I know the adrenaline coursing through my veins is hiding most of the pain from me. I can feel the leaves as I rush past them, but it is as if my brain cannot comprehend that they are there. I can feel the earth beneath me as my feet pound into it, the strain in my legs from running for so long, the blood weeping from the gashes on my legs and back, but I can only feel the pressure of air flowing against it and my clothes sticking to my sweaty, bloody skin. I can only hope it’s not my trail of blood that is leading that monster to me.
“A monster?” I could feel its breath on my neck. Its teasing and calm voice continued, “That’s not very nice.”
It’s too close. It got behind me too fast. There is no possible way that I could outrun it. I am going to die.
I could feel it peering at me as I ran. It followed with ease. As I was gasping for breath, it only let out a small breathy chuckle at my futile resistance. It was as if it found me humorous. My fear was funny. I know that this is my last night and that I will die by its hands, but the fact that it laughed at me made me furious. My fear, while still there, was replaced almost completely by my rage.
I thought of my gun at home. How nice it would be to shoot the monster chasing me, to kill it. How I wanted death to consume the black beast, for it to fall to the ground in agony, for it to scream in immense pain as it takes its last breath.
Yet again, it laughed. “You certainly do have a dark imagination for a child,” It purred.
I was running. If I stopped then I would surely die, right? But, that monster could have definitely caught me already. It is only chasing me because I am a game to it. It does not matter if I continue to run. I will die. I am no match against it, and I only play the role of prey in its game. Stop the game. Stop the running. End its fun. I thought. Are a few minutes of this chase worth it anyway? The end is the same no matter what I do. The only thing that would differ would be the duration of my suffering.
Resolved to end the game, the pain, and my life, I slowed to a jog, then a walk, and as I found myself unable to hold my own weight, I collapsed to the forest floor. I pushed myself to a nearby fallen tree and propped myself against it. As I sat there, the soft moss cushioning me, my breath barely managing to slow, I looked at it.
It was almost like a shadow. Its black silhouette shone only as the moon filtered through the trees. I could see its short, sleek fur as it slowly shifted its weight to kneel down. Its large, slender frame leaned over me. The smile it wore slithered across its face to reach where one ear would be to the other. Its eyes sinched as it analyzed me.
It had stopped. It wasn’t moving any closer to me. It wasn’t killing me… yet.
“Well?” My hoarse throat managed to spit out.
“Well what?” The creature teased, its voice smooth and even.
Its head was eerily human-like. I expected to look into its eyes and see the dead, cold ones I am familiar with from dreams. Instead, as I peered into the darkness, I saw the eyes of man. My thoughts stopped. I can read people like an open book by looking into their eyes, so why did this man look concerned? He was worried. Something wasn’t right.
His melodic voice spoke again, “Are you not going to run?” Its loose, calm voice was so unlike its tense build.
I steadied my gaze on him, fear and rage releasing with the air from my lungs. I cannot say why, but its unease made me feel at ease. My muscles were released from their tense state. My brain finally realized the sting in my legs. They were sore from overuse and stung from the cuts I obtained from running through the brush. Now, I don’t think I could move even if I wanted to.
It asked if I was going to run, but isn’t the better question, “Are you not going to kill me?”
It looked tense, contradicting the fun attitude from the chase. It looked conflicted as it slowly moved its spindling claw to my chest.
“Do it.” I challenged.
And it did. Its sharp claw pierced my skin. It slid its slender fingers through my ribs. It gripped my heart. It crushed it. It took a few seconds for my brain to cease working. I died.
