Run
- Reads 14
- Votes 2
- Parts 1
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sat, Aug 29, 2015
I was running. That's all I knew how to do. Run and survive. They were after me. The dogs. The dogs are the biggest criminal group in New York. They robbed banks, did hit-n-runs, murder, every bad thing you can think of; and they don't get caught. They were mean, nasty, foul creatures who would be able to make Rocky look like a cute little puppy when fighting. They know their way around a gun better than any Marine or Navy Seal. And guess what. They're after me. Me. The girl who only has the clothes on her back. Me. Who's been on the streets since she was five. Me. Emmy Striker. All because I wrote down some numbers. And now, I'm dog meat. I never wanted this. I just wanted a normal life. But now I've got to do the only thing I know how to do. Run.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know I know, I need to stop. But, hope you like!
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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