Short Story Collection

Running

Running

Running from the danger behind me, its screeching cries piercing my ears. Adrenaline courses through my arteries, powering my muscles like nitro to an engine. My feet pound on the forest floor with each step, sending tremors up my legs. I don't notice. All I can focus on is the path ahead, and the unearthly calls behind me.

Hiding

Hiding like a lemming in its burrow from the fox hunting it. My burrow is the shelter provided by a fallen oak; my fox is the inhuman monsyer stalking me. But I have evaded it. I outran it. And now I'm cloaked in shadows; he'll never find me.

I don't know what to do. The fog hides any sense of direction and position from me; I have nowhere to go. Nothing else exists now. Only me, this tree, and the square mile of forest and trees where my antagonist dwells, looking for me. Hunting for me. I know he's still searching; his cries are like the calls of an orca. His screeching will find me. His shouts will guide him. And now he's here, his face cracking open to reveal a set of razor-sharp teeth.

Fighting

My arms lash out, as do my feet. I punch, I kick, I scream. I cry out in fear and terror, as if that will help me. But no. No one can hear me. No one will save me. The only one who hears is him, and he enjoys my screams. He is overpowering me; my back is to the wall. His teeth sink into my skin, his jaws clamped around my arm.

Surrender

I broke free. I don't know how. I'm standing alone, surrounded by the accursed fog. Nothing looks familiar. I'm out of breath. And now here he comes. I don't run away. I close my eyes, and breath my last.