He Should Have Listened

Running. He kept running. There seems to be no end. His legs felt sore. Wait, he sees a light at the end of the path. Salvation? Wrong.

It was a dark and peaceful night…

Not.

With every step, his ‘stalker’ inched closer.

Closer.

The leaves crunched under his boots, a little too loudly, giving away his location. He was panting a little too fast, his lungs burned with every breath; an asthma attack is due any second now. No, no, please. Not now. He needs to get further, further from that-that thing following him. His legs were straining, struggling, threatening to give way, his hamstrings stretched taut like a kiloton of iron is being weighed down on them. It hurts. His legs hurt. He cannot keep this up for much longer. Must. Get. Further. His greyish blue long-sleeved top was torn up everywhere, from the branches and tree trunks he ran past. Fresh blood was flowing from the bruises and scratches, yet he gave no notice. Perspiration trickled steadily down his chin, even though the night was cold, a nice, swift breeze caressing his wounds and face.

The forest around him was too quiet for a forest. It should be abuzz with crickets and night creatures dwelling about in the trees and bushes. Yet, his surroundings are a silent as the calm before a storm, making him feel uneasy, his heart began pounding faster. The leaves on the tree made no sound, even with the breeze passing by. The whole situation felt eerie; even the half-moon and the dimly lit stars seemed as though they were watching his every move, and feeding information back to his stalker.

He has no allies here.

Rustle. The sound came from behind. His heartbeat raced. So did he. He summoned whatever strength he had left and attempted to burst forward.

Too late.

He screamed.

He was flipped over. He was falling. It felt as though it was in slow motion.

Slowly, the forest woke up.

Trees began rustling, as the wind picked up, like school girls who caught wind of a hot new rumour. Bushy tails flashed past on the ground and up the trees. Toads started croaking noisily; the crickets decided, at that moment, to start their mating calls. Big glowing yellow eyes seemed to be glaring at him from the dark shadows of the bushes, following him as he fell. He tried to catch a glimpse of what was behind him, as he was expecting to feel some impact. Even so, he was unable to. All he saw before he blacked out was a figure in black, with long glossy white hair right down to the waist, or what he thought was the figure’s waist. Its grass green eyes gleamed from behind the curtain of hair covering its face. The figure’s hands reached out to him, as a cackle escaped its blood red lips.

He whimpered in fear and regret when he heard the figure whisper menacingly.

“Hey, don’t you just wish you listened to your mother?”