Alexander and I: 07 Ghost

Encounter

Sweat drenched my entire body as I ran.

Away from the dark figures, who were chasing me, through rubble, through pure terror and harsh darkness.

Thier red eyes glinted, piercing the darkness, their demented features clambered, sweeping through the rubble. Flesh oozed out of thier pores, thier faces, arms, bodies falling apart. Some had bare strings and veins connecting their arms to thier bodies, others were missing their skins, interstices splattering the ground beneath them.

They were desperate.

They clambered, some floating, others stumbling, a few moved forward in flashes, steadily moving forward, chasing me, thier prey. And soon, their little rat would be cornered.

I could feel my pupils dia later in fear, and my cheeks flushed. There was an ace in every muscle, a pain in every ligament. My left arm was loose, swinging, throbbing with a dull pain. I could feel the bone, shattered shards in a muscle casing, surrounded by skin.

A group of cold fingers caught my limp arm, their skeleton wings tore into my skin, and my hand dissapeared into a bloody mass, nothing but a stub. My eyes streamed, and my throat self-destructed, almost tearing my vocal chords apart in a strangulated cry.

But I ran.

My hair kept swinging into my eyes, blocking my already limited view.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an old brick wall blocked my path. My sight started flashing, and my breath caught in my throat. My eyes began to tremor in their sockets, and I could almost feel my nerve cells contracting, and sending pulses everywhere to my body.

The darkness surged into my chest, and my head ran hot as my body turned as cold as ice.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins.

I turned, breathing heavily, in complete terror, away from the wall.

Then, something clicked.

Like someone had pulled a switch, I was calm. My back straightened, and my muscles tightened. I closed my eyes. I felt the shadows in front of me, gaining on me, obsessed with ripping me from my soul.

I smiled. Something that felt like pure hate coursed from my head, shooting into my right arm.

A stream of jet black zaiphon shot through my right arm, burning through the air, shredding everything in its path. The dark forms, shook, empty, and unmoving for a second, before they warped into themselves, and I saw the souls they were holding captive destroyed.

One of them was an old woman, with tousled grey hair, and wrinkly, old features.

There was a Little girl with raven hair and bright brown eyes, but as she floated up, her stomach was a gaping hole.

I fell to my knees. I had killed him. And her, and her, and her. The destructive features if the kor had dissapeared, leaving the vessels intact.

Last, long after the others had dissolved, leaving thier dark, impure kor bodies behind. They were disgusting, smelling like sulfur and ash, burning trees and rotten animal remains.

There was nothing to throw up, anyway. I simply heaved, my stomach wringing itself in its dark cavity. I shook, finally seeing my hand, or rather, not seeing my hand.

I tried to scream, over and over, but I couldn't make a sound.

Blood poured from the wound, and my heart rate increased, sending blood spraying across the walls around me.

I fell, face up, my head resting on the brick wall behind me. Around me, blood sprayed from my severed artery, giving me a halo of red.

I sat up, as if I was simply sitting down for leisure, and closed my eyes. Blood pooled around me.

'So this is how it ends.' I thought bitterly. The world spun, before fading into white. It demolished the dark around me, destroying the layers of filth I was coated in, leaving only white, and beautiful nothing. White was so boring. As if white was perfect.

What a stereotype. How humane.

I felt the world swirl again, letting out a weak, bitter laugh.

Then it collapsed. The disgusting white fell away, replaced by red-tinted darkness. I smiled.

This suited me so much better.

Didn't it, chairman?

I was a murderer, after all.

That's what you made me.

Miroko

I felt nothingness below me, and my head lolled backwards. I felt two strong arms below me.

Being carried to hell. How ironic.

Then all was silent, a ringing silence, and a pressing darkness, a bleeding, dark red darkness.

The colour of dried blood.