His back hunched over, just as It came and kicked his spine, the air was escaping his lungs, so he slammed onto the concrete ground, gasping for lungfuls of oxygen. It stared down at him with its cold, dark expression. He was defenseless, weaponless, and therefore helpless, his limbs sprawled on the now scarlet street under him. The thing stepped into the dim, crackling light from the street lamp. It seemed more like an actual shadowy shape now, and just as the figure lifted its head, it sprinted off, leaving the boy alone to die. He shivered on the frigid pavement. This was surely an awful way to die, he thought. As he sucked in his last breath, he wondered if he could ever be found. His eyes closed, and he stopped all movement.
Then, a slow, small beat in his wrist fluttered to life. Pulse.
YOU ARE READING
The Switching
FantasyEmmilyn is cursed. Her whole world is damaged because of the acts of the evil Keeper, a spirit of discord, who ruined time. Every twenty-five years, four "Retrievers" try to find the Keeper and fix everything. Emmilyn becomes apart of that training...
