Running On The Hills

Cold. Damp. Dark.

I just kept running, not sure where I was going, what I was doing. Just running.

Don’t ask me how this started or what happened, heck I have no idea. I was just strolling outside, moonlight beaming down but now, well that’s it, now I’m running for my life, sweat rolling down me mixing the rain water like a rivulet, help. I don’t know what to do. Help.

Everyone’s gone, everyone’s left me. I’ve slipped about four times already on these steep rocks, this gorge. beneath me epitomising my death. Four times I slipped and nothing, it was the fifth that did it. Slip, slide and battered, my leg in a tangled mess but I can still hear it, that noise, they’re coming.

I’ve came too far, I’m not ending my stand here in a heap, so back up and run, drag my dead leg if I have to, whatever it takes.

Avoiding another fall is the best option, make sure I don’t slip. The noise grows stronger, the moonlight fading and then that’ll be it. The sixth did the trick.

Down into the gorge I go. Roll once, roll twice and down. I’m out.No more getting back up now and the noises are hear, directly on me but the moons so faded I can’t see, can’t feel anymore with the cold. I don’t need to feel now, it’ll get this over quicker.

They’ve got me.

4 thoughts on “Running On The Hills

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