A bit rattled by your experience with the psycho in the park, you decide to head straight home for a nice hot cup of tea. Or cocoa. Or coffee. Or something poisonous.
Just anything steamy to get your mind off of the creep.
Making your way back to the outskirts of the city, you weave your way through the industrial streak in the quiet town, dodging trucks and forklifts as they scrabble about, trying to arrange their own stock.
You round the last corner before the abrupt cut off of the industrial district only to find yourself face to face with a speeding fork lift in a narrow alley with no room for escape. They see you immediately, but it is already several seconds too late.
They swerve and sink their forks into the brick wall as a last ditch effort, cutting like a blade through the vein-like pipes that run up the wall. What spills out is far more harmful than blood.
Steam too hostile for sustainable life pours out in an angry hiss, encompassing you where you stand.
The steamed vegetables are served~
Game Over.
YOU ARE READING
Futile Trials
PertualanganThis is a your choice story. But choose carefully, many of these paths will lead to an unfortunate end.
