Apocalyptic Story Made On A Whim

Despair

The pounding doesn't cease no matter how far I go. Heavy thumps that get increasingly faster and louder-I don't know if it's from fear or running. My throat burns, my legs burn, arms and head are slicked with cold sweat, but I don't stop. I wouldn't stay alive if I did and I know because it's been repeating over and over through the heartbeats and wheezes because every time there's a hole within the shadows it screams out once more, like freezing will cause red, hungry eyes to emerge within that faint darkness and strike out at you. Spots along the ground that shine with moonlight can just as easily morph into silver bugs  or spotted hands to grab at your ankles, nip at them til bone and tattered skin is all that's left.

 I keep running.

 Soon the adrenaline fades away and the fear feels natural and numbness proceeds to take my legs and arms, but I keep running. Jumping, sliding, until falling. A gnarled root hidden under leaves with a patch of rocks surrounding it. It looked like flat ground-normal ground, but the stumbling of my feet uncovered the trap, trapping me. Fresh, hot pain. Not burning or stinging-warm and pounding hurt. Small little penetrating stones dig into the shin and scrape surrounding skin. Mud and roots and leaves fill my vision, dirt entering my mouth, it's cold and wet. And then a crack. And another. And another. Coming from all directions. Hastily thumbling up, I soon realize why. 

Warm blood that glinted blue in the moonlight trailed down and pooled around me. Dripping at its own pace as though it was a singular existence in the world. Despair has never been so looming before. 

 Just when I had managed to escape, must this be karma? For what I've done or what humanity has to pay? But our debt must be too large, to be paid back. That's why. Yes, that must be why. 

Wheezing and deflated, my dry laughs of frustration are only second to the surrounding noise. Moans que up next to the multiple crunching of leaves, I don't bother to bolt. Trembling, buckling, and unbalanced numbness with pain, that combination will get me nowhere, but greater suffering. The dirt in my mouth has flew out in small fits like particles in the light, only some stay around settling next to the welt of fear and disgust and anxiety in my throat. Some part of me regrets leaving the axe behind. It's shining edge gleaming within folds of rot and guts, I didn't dare touch it. Not like it would stand a chance with the horde.

Within seconds, I see them. Ashy grey skin, now charcoal in the shadows and pearlescent yellow eyes with no signs of life. Limply hanging arms, shuddering legs, almost like puppets on strings near invisible because of the thinness. Except, they're not the same at all. I see them and they see me and their fish eyes light up like a street light. Whether it's because they've stepped into the shine of the moon or because their desire to hurt was simply too evident they notice right away. And then they smile.

Wide and toothy like the maw of a shark they unhinge their jaws in glee and come running. Footsteps crashing down like a waterfall, I hear more coming. I assume they were scouts because those open mouths screech a bone-chilling cry and echos it within the forest. As they push me down my legs that have tried to run slam into the ground. Wrinkled and gnarled hands- dead hands, gripping my arm, digging in. Whatever light left is destroyed, wisped away, as more members join them. And as the darkness starts enclosing in I struggle with all the might I had left. Thinking, maybe, just maybe, I could escape. But it's too late. Sharp piercing pain like no other overpowers my senses.

 I can feel the skin of the back of my neck stretching as they tore into it with their teeth, pulling it back to tear it away, and multiple jaws snapping on my limbs. The air only gets warmer and warmer from their frenzied actions and my pouring blood, but there's only cold. I can't look or see, but I can feel the weight of a palm pressuring my head and the breaking of my big toe as one tried to pull it off. Once more, it's mud and leaves and roots, but now festering flesh and tattered clothes are there. Strands of hair litter the ground, brown and curly and short, it's everywhere like dandelion seeds. The burning sensation on my scalp continues to burn as their claws rake down digging, all the pain I could have ever handled in my life used up in one day. I won't last.

Soon everything just disappears into unconsciousness. Gone.