The Fox

Run

He ran, they were right behind him.

He couldn't stop or they would get him and would hurt him.

They were screaming at him for something, screaming for something he didn't do, for death and destruction he didn't cause...but he did do it, he could remember it.

He remembered those terrible red eyes, those accursed red eyes that trapped him and turned him into a puppet like they had before, and then he was in the middle of a village, destruction and death on all sides.

He didn't understand it exactly but he kept running because whether he actually caused all that destruction, whether he did it or not, they didn't care.

He passed by something, a corner, a tree, a person...he didn't know it was, it was all a blur...but he had the feeling that what ever it was he past was sad.

Then strange grey blurs zoomed past his head as he ran, more and more of the grey blurs zoomed by as the screams got louder.

He thought that maybe there were more people chasing him, at least he hoped not. He didn't want to look back because if he did he knew they would be right behind him.

He couldn't stop, if he stopped they would catch him and hurt him, again.

He turned around something, into a narrower space where it was darker, much darker than where he just was.

Good, he could hide in the dark, the dark would keep him hidden, keep him safe.

But it hand't before when he stayed in the dark for so long he lost count of how many times he watched the sun set.

He hoped they wouldn't find him, not again.

He hid behind a large object and began to shake and shiver in both the all encompassing fear and the bone shivering cold.

The awful smell of the people that chased him hit his sensitive noise.

They smelt awful, down right terrible, like garbage or week old food that had been left in the hot sun and humid air. 

But there was that unmistakable scent of alcohol coming off them, he knew that from before, he had learned to fear that terrible stench.

Someone screamed out, what he couldn't tell of what or who.

Then the yells and the cries and the screams got louder and louder.

"Die..." A voice whispered.

He began to shake even more as he knew the cold, icy voice was talking to him.

"...Die..." A different voice whispered.

He held his hands over his ears and tried to ignore the voices.

"...Die...you demon..." Another voice whispered.

Soon he began to cry, it was always like this, for as long as he could remember they hated him, they feared him and tried to bend him, kill him.

'Why can't they leave me alone' was the only thought that went through his small head when ever this occurred.

He could remember the looks, the whispers, the yelling, but that was all they did, usually. 

But, he knew today would be worse, he just knew it, and worst of all today was the day of his birth...no that didn't sound right, rebirth, that sounded better, more accurate.