The air is dark and gray; Dampness fills the atmosphere. Above, the moon shows through a curtain of dark clouds. Trees, dark, tall, foreboding, bend towards the spectacle beneath them, ever waiting patiently for what is to come. The twigs snap, louder, and still louder, leaves crunching, the underbrush moving with each touch, and the tread of two feet, the patter begins to draw near.
Past the black trees and over the rotten log, the boy continues to run down his path, the path of destruction, his mind has gone mad with hate and anger, driven to do the unthinkable. Nothing will get in his way now. No shoes. No shirt, only torn and tattered shorts covered his body, blood trickling from his torso and his face. His bare feet are covered in a mixture of dirt and blood, halfway dried. Lights beam from above, and voices sound, making no coherent phrase, only noise, droning noise that drives the boy even closer to his edge of madness. The light fliers swiftly dive in and out of the trees, pricking the boy with their probing razors, making him bleed even more. We all know NO ONE escapes, he cant’ escape, he wont, what was he thinking, does he know something the light flyers don’t, he can’t. No one does, he must have a suicide wish, and he doesn’t like this world anymore, but its perfect. No murder no crime, and everyone is treated equally. Nothing is taken for granted; there are no jails, no jobs, what could possibly be so wrong someone would want to commit suicide? Suicide is preposterous, it’s unheard of. Cease this now boy; please hear me, I beg of you. You can’t hear me though, it’s too late, the light flyers job will be done soon, and they’ll go back to their charging bay.
Small limbs cracked as they came in contact with his face, cutting it even more, creating more blood, more pain. Breath began to come at cost, his lungs were on fire, and the seekers continued to whir behind him. Head throbbing, no thoughts, only blank instincts. He darted left and right avoiding larger trees, and in the middle of one of these maneuvers, he saw an overhanging stone, with a muddy creek beneath it. Perfect.. He quickly darted underneath the stone and began to cover his body with the mud. It stank of sewage and death. The smell of corpses been dead for days, and the smell of old sewage dumped from the windows of houses. Stink, was better then death, pain and torture. Luckily it had been a bleak and overcast day, or he would have had no chance of escape, and now, his chances of surviving had just jumped up 30.7%, the seekers, light flyers whirred on by, then stopped, they had lost their pray. The noises grew louder, they were upset, annoyed, almost defining the sound was now. The limbs of trees shook, and the ground rattled. It stopped, the light flyers flew above the trees and left in a sonicboom of speed.
see, its happening
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