The Haven Project

Chapter 1

Running. Constant running. Nothing but the rush of wind as I weave through the never ending forest. Helplessly running from some unknown horror, lurking just beyond my line of sight. The brush is getting thicker; I find it harder and harder to push my way through bushes and branches. All the while, the beast is getting closer. I can hear its earsplitting steps shaking the soft ground. My legs grow weak; I can feel its was breath getting closer, the stench making my eyes water. I trip over a vine protruding from the leaves underfoot. The beast is right over me now; I turn my head to see what death lies before me-

"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP"

I roll over and hit the snooze on my alarm clock. For the fifth time this week I wake up just before I see what horrendous creature is going to tear me to shreds. The angst in not knowing how I am about to die has been killing me for weeks. I should probably back up and explain.

When I was seven years old, I realized I had 'abilities' that were not common to most people. I could predict certain things, and they would turn out to be correct. Most people would say that sounds ludicrous. How could a child predict the future? I was skeptical at first too, but then came the fateful day of the Harvest Run.

Every year, my small town of Durant, Oklahoma, hosts a three mile run during the harvest season. This year, my parents were helping to run the snack stand. I wasn't too thrilled to be standing in the sweltering heat all day, but my parents insisted that I come along. My first mistake wasn't just going, but wearing jeans. Not much is worse than wearing jeans in 100 degree heat.

As the runners took their mark on the starting line, I began to get very woozy. My head spun, and the ground seemed to pull out from under me as I descended into darkness. I will never forget the images that my eyes beheld. Everywhere I looked, people were screaming bloodcurdling cries. Blood painted the pavement as if a painter spilled his red paint across his canvass. My eyes fell upon the cause of the horror I was amidst. A news helicopter had crashed down onto the runners as they crossed the finish line. The blades had flown in every direction, severing limbs and heads. One woman was cradling the top half of a young boy. His face was disfigured and bloodied, hardly recognizable as a human corpse.

I looked over and saw a sight that haunted me even more than the rest. My mother and father both lay on the grass, hand in hand. Half of my mothers head was gone, and my father looked more like a pretzel than a human. His leg was twisted under him, bone poking through the skin. His other leg was nowhere in sight. Something had cut it clean off. As I stood there, dumbfounded, I began to sway. Once again, I was engulfed in darkness.