Random Writing

Real or Not Real?

They said I couldn't make it this far. I wish they had been right.

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The familiar pain starts in my calves and works its way up into my thighs as I run. I can hear them chasing me deeper and deeper into the dark wood, their voices sending up an alarm for anyone else nearby. Not that there would be anyone. Not that any of this is actually real.

It feels real though. The burning wound in my side, the nearly unbearable dryness of my throat, the immense prick of pain inflicted by the small but deadly dart. It feels real alright.

The trees whip by me, the wind whistling in my ears. Footsteps sound at my back and I know without actually seeing them that it will be just seconds before they catch up. If I am lucky.

So I look up. I look to the trees and, sure enough, escape is just feet above my head. Taking these last few steps to prepare for the leap, I push my tired muscles as hard as they will let me. I hear snickering behind me, even over the wind in my ears. It's now or never. I push off from the ground and leap. Fingertips graze the skin of my ankle but I am gone before they can grasp.

My hands make contact with the low hanging branch and I grab hold of it, pulling myself up to rest against the trunk. Once again, I've escaped failure by a fraction of a second.

I take a moment to catch my breath, one that I am not sure I can spare, before pulling myself into a crouch and peering down to the ground below.

Nothing. Where there once were deadly pursuers, there now is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And far from soothing my tired mind, all it does is worry me more for what comes next.

Night falls in the dark forest, though there is but a small difference to me beneath the thick canopy of leaves. Instead of seeing some, I see none. Instead of watching for danger, I must now listen.

Birds sing a nighttime lullaby, filling the silence. Crickets chirp and animals nest. Everyone preparing for bedtime.

Except for me.

I am preparing for a battle. One I know neither the time nor place that it will happen. All I can do is listen to the song of the forest and hope for the best.

Seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours. All this time I have kept a silent vigil, hoping, praying for something to come. In but a few hours I have gone from running away from danger to hoping that it will find me. I am growing both impatient and tired and if whatever is next finds me in the darkness while I am sleeping, it will certainly be the end.

And that's when I decide. If it will not come to me, I will go to it. I've grown tired of running from these traps set by the makers. I've grown tired of playing their games. It's now or never, and I've made my choice.

I slip the belt from my waist and count my remaining blades. Seven. I pull the broken sword from its now too large sheath. The jagged tip is like nothing I've ever fought with, and far too short for my liking, but it is certainly better than the inch long daggers. The canteen is pulled from within the folds of my leather jacket and the last drops of water emptied down my starved throat.

Everything but the empty bottle is put back in its proper place before I carefully slide down the trunk. Leaves crunch beneath my feet. The birdsong stops. All is quiet and I can't help but wonder... Is it me? Or is it them?

I quietly plod along making no sound other than the whisper of grass beneath my feet. I can hardly see a thing, yet I push forward. Any time now and it could leap out from behind that bush. The small one just over there with the red berries. It could jump down on top of me while I am busy checking behind me for any sign of being followed. It could appear out of thin air, like the last group did, with spears and darts and arrows and swords. It could come from anywhere. Be anything.

And then I hear it. The smallest whisper of sound. Several feet to my left and ahead of me just a ways. I draw my broken blade, the tiniest hint of a sound, metal against metal, and stop moving.

I can see better now, though not much. Just enough to make out shapes. And the shape I see... well it terrifies me.

I don't know if it sees me, though it probably does. I don't even know what it is, only that it is nearing seven feet tall and nearly half as wide. It has horns sprouting from the top of its head like a bull. It could trample me in seconds.

But I won't let that happen. I can't. Because if I do, then they win.

Another crunch of sound from the bull. I flinch and leap to the side just as it rushes past me.

I turn to face the shadow. Blood pounds in my ears. I raise the sword. The beast charges.

As it runs by, I leap to the side and swipe with the blade. The sharp tug tells me that it hit, though there is no cry of pain. It charges forward and turns swiftly, taking aim again and running right at me.

This time I retaliate the same way. I charge the beast, my sword raised high. I take a running leap, soaring through the air until

Bright white. Nothing but white. It's all gone. The woods, the pain, the beast.

I'm back. They pulled me out.

Now that the pain is gone, the constant pain in my side from the first wave, the burning in my legs from constantly running, running, running, all I can focus on is the anger. A blinding hatred for everyone apart of this consumes me.

I open my eyes. The light swamps my vision and it's all I can do not to flinch. Three men stand before me all dressed in white robes. They look on kindly, nothing but praise in their eyes.

One steps forward.

"What have you done?" I ask, my words laced with venom.

His grin stretches wider. "Welcome back."