I was tired, but I had to keep walking. My feet hurt and they felt as if they were bleeding, and they probably were.
With each step, I felt as if I was another world away. I looked ahead, the streets glowed from the overhead shine of streetlights.
"Where was I?" I began to ask myself, but I quickly realized I didn't care.
Anything was better than the alternative.
My revolving questions became "What street am I on?", as I looked around, I saw no indication of a sign, but I trudged on, dragging feet with me.
I ran away from home, most kids say they will do it, but they always chicken out.
I was surprised I did it.
It was tempting to go back, but I didn't. Its been 3 days, I have been living off the $51 I stole from my mothers purse, and it's been far too late for me to walk home and try to pretend nothing happened.
Its hard to imagine, 3 straight days of walking, (except for the 3-4 hours i slept a night).
I could already imagine "The have you seen me" poster
It would say my name in bold print, Phil Banister.
Then there would be a crappy picture of me, with useless information posted underneath it.
Color of eyes: Green.
Color of hair: Brown.
Date of birth: Nov, 5th, 1999.
After awhile of stumbling around in the dark I found a cold metal park bench.
I laid my head down , and let the cold metal caress the back of my head.
My eyes drifted softly and slowly towards a dreamlike state.
After what seemed like seconds my eyes shot open, I sat up.
My neck was stiff and it was painful to move.
In the distance I saw a figure of a man.
I thought to myself, "Maybe this guy could tell me where I am and give me directions", so I called to him.
"Hey, sir." I yelled to him.
To my surprise he called back.
"Hey sir." he yelled right back in a voice similar to mine, but his was a bit darker, and shakier.
I stood up off the bench, and the glow of the streetlights hit my face causing me to squint.
The man seemingly sped up, until he was only a couple of yards away.
Th lights shone on him, and I saw what he looked like
His body had a grayish tone and when I tried to look at him in the eyes, I realized I couldn't.
He didn't have eyes, or a nose, or a mouth.
Where he should have had a face, he had a intercom.
"What the-" I said out loud mistakenly.
"What the-", the man said what I said, same voice... only deeper... and shakier.
I then realized what ever I said this man, this thing repeated in a deep, distorted voice.
He tried to grab me, and I took a step back.
I was on guard, getting ready to run at the next sign of danger.
I then saw his left hand, deep in the palm of his hand was a drill.
His drill hand began twirling, creating a humming sound.
He tried to grab me again, but this time I was not as quick as I was before.
His drill began digging into my arms, I tried to push him away making shrill shrieking noises as I did so.
The thing mimicked my screams in his interpretation of me.
With strength I didn't know I had, I pushed him away.
My hot blood was running down my arm.
The thing's head tilted as if he was confused by something.
I ran off, holding my arm in pain, the only thing I could think of was "Run!" I didn't look back until my legs gave out.
I landed face first into dirt.
I making whimpering and crying noises, and my tears ran down my face.
"What is this place?" I said in a high pitched cry of my voice.
My hands shoved into my pockets, eagerly looking for materials in which I could attempt to protect myself with.
I found tissues, a broken pencil, pocket lint and a pocket knife.
"Thank god." I said to myself.
I started to begin feeling a little bit braver.
I tested some sticks that i thought would be sturdy, and I sharpened them into a point.
I carried them all in one hand , and I put my pocket knife back in my pocket, it was now dull from sharpening wood.
My steps made thumping sounds as I walked onto the road.
I stared at the houses that lined the edges of the road.
They were all painted white.
I attempted to quiet down my thumping footsteps.
My arm continued bleeding, not as bad as it was before, but I was still in pain.
I ripped out part of my shirt and wrapped it around my wound.
My whole body winced as the fabric touched my bloody wound.
I then stepped towards one of the houses, and I rattled the doorknob.
Locked...
I checked the window and to my surprise I saw that the window was boarded up by bricks, I ran around the end of the house and I found a backdoor.
When i rattled its knob, the door opened.
It's creak echoed throughout the house.
I said "Hello?" as I walked throughout the empty house.
It echoed just like I did with my foot steps.
I was nervous...and I wasn't doing a very good job at hiding it.
I checked room to room, every single one was empty.
Not even a couch were I figured was the living room.
I realized there was no place to hide, this house was just empty space..
I was about to leave and try the next house but then I heard foot steps outside the house.
I ran around and I eventually found a closet, still somehow full of clothes though no one lives here.
I hid in there with my sharpened stakes pointed outward.
There was a crack in the closet door in which I used to see what was going in the house.
The intercom faced being wandered the house, his drill outstretched in front of him.
I was sweating waterfalls, and I tried to hold back a cry of fear.
The thing then walked down to the closet where I hid.
He slowly began opening the closet, staring down with the face that he lacked.
I then began screaming in terror, as he mimicked my voice.
I attempted to stab him with one of my sharpened stakes, and I got him right in the chest.
He didn't even notice as purplish blood came dripping down from him.
I continued stabbing and he began waving his drill hand at me, cutting up my fingers.
With each slash from his drill I yelled in pain.
After awhile he stopped copying me, and was making screeching static sounds, like something you would hear from a busted television set, as if he was still trying to copy me... but he couldn't.
I continued stabbing and he continued slashing.
His screeching static grew louder, and then it stopped...
His drill stoped, purple blood leaking from his carcass.
He fell down, and I dropped my stake.
My blood ran through my fingers, creating a crimson flow.
My breathe was finally returning to normal, I put my hand in my pocket and grabbed my knife.
It hurt to hold things.
I dug the now dull pocket knife deep into the head of the beast...
I left the house and I had a slight limp with each step.
I continued walking attempting to leave the place, the rows of houses never ended.
After awhile i started hearing static... but I just kept walking.
THE END.
