Wrenching its jaw open into a fully-fledged grin, its gums squelched with agony at the needles forcefully twisted in their place. Astonished and terrified I stumbled backwards, slinging my chair to the floor. The creature made no sound but the animal like breaths were worse than any other possible sound imaginable. The lips I then realised were stained with blood, and the story was so unknown because no one ever survived to report it. The missing children were obviously a hook, a trap. Revolted, I ran. The more I ran the more people appeared. Although they looked like people, they weren't. I knew they weren't. And so one by one they came. And they followed. The only place I could think of going was the forest. So intense, it had to provide some cover from these abominations. Street after street, my legs pushed on never ceasing as the sound of the heavy, snarling breaths were right at my ear.
Finally after what seemed like an age, the forest sharply arose. I got one last snap shot of the creatures before I dived into the wilderness of branches.The trees dispersed, unknitting themselves from one another. Once I felt I had out run whatever those things were, and I was about to collapse, I sunk down onto the trunk of a tree. Panting, I closed my eyes hoping for some relief from this living hell. Creeping up my leg, something wrapped itself around my knees, then my waist, and my wrists, pulling downwards. Too exhausted to fight I opened my eyes to face my death. A creature hadn't caught me; the forest had.
YOU ARE READING
Bakersfield
ContoI'm a reporter. Well the bare minimum of one. I'm the clichés of all clichés; I have a chance at a job I want and the circumstances are difficult. I get it. My job isn't bad. But its boring. If I stay a minute longer I fear I'll go insane. I need a...
