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Tag: writing
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The Monster Within: Chapter Four: Understanding
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The Monster Within: Chapter Six: Rampage
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The Monster Within: Chapter Three: Can’t Escape Part 2
This is not good.
I jump up. So much for nap-time. Now I’ve got to run from the authorities. Lucky me. I head for the other end of the alleyway, coming out on the other side. While not as barren as the other street, it’s still lacking in people, so I hurry down the street. If someone called the police and told them that I was on that street in that alley, then I would need to get as far away from that alley as I possibly could.
Calm. I need to be calm. I take several deep breaths and clear my mind to keep me from spiraling. Keep looking forward, don’t look back. Relax, you’re too tense.
“Yes, yes, run away, little pup, as that’s all you can do.” The Wolf says sneeringly. I want to snap back at him, but I have to contain myself.
Despite my attempts to remain calm, my mind races. The police can’t seriously believe that a teenage boy lost his temper and grew fur and claws, could they? They’ll think that the people there are delusional, won’t they?
Relax. I need to relax. They won’t be able to find me, surely. I’ll just huddle in another alley and wait it out. They can’t be that determined to find someone who didn’t do anything, right?
Then again, if it means capturing the person responsible for all those mysterious murders, they might be. But how would they know it was me? Unless…no. There’s no way. No one has seen me transform before and lived. But if someone survived somehow. No. It’s not possible. Or is it?
I quicken my pace.
I can hear the sirens, even at this distance, and I bet people are now wondering where they’re going. And to whom.
I need to hide. No, scratch that, I need to escape. Escape from what, though? I’ve been running away for months, trying to escape from something I know that I can never escape from.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t notice that there are people on the sidewalks again, and I don’t see where I’m going. I bump into a man. I fall to the ground, though the man barely moves. He stands there, his back to me as I lie on mine, held up by my elbows.
The man turns his head toward me, a smile on his lips as he looks right at me with his timeless gray eyes. He touches the brim of his sand-colored fedora at me, saying, “Love conquers all, my friend, if you’re looking for a cure.” Then he turns and disappears in a sudden crowd of people.
I sit there, confused. That was a strange thing to say to someone out of the blue. I stand up and try to find the man’s sand-colored fedora and ankle-length trench coat, but he’s gone. He must’ve ducked into a shop or something.
As I stumble around, I find myself face-to-face with my reflection in a shop window. 16, dressed in rags, hair disheveled. But I didn’t care about that. What stands out to me the most are my eyes. They aren’t brown like my eyes usually are. No, they’re in slits, and blood red. So that’s what the boy in the shop was screaming at. But why are they like this? What happened?
The sirens ring through the air again, bringing my attention back to them. As I turn in their direction, I see a police car turn the corner on this street, the sirens blaring in my ears.
Panic rises within me as the officer’s eyes lock onto mine. A split second is shared between us before she reacts to this slit-eyed, homeless child who looks like the one from the coffee shop. As her car reaches me, I find myself running in the opposite direction.
What am I thinking? I realize. I can’t outrun a car!
A thought bubbles into my mind, and I clutch it. Without thinking, I bend over and begin running on all fours, going strangely faster than I was springing on two limbs. I tear through the crowds, causing many people to look and gasp, but I don’t care. I’m going faster than the car, and I’m nearing a corner.
I screech to a halt and turn the corner, momentarily blocked from the policewoman’s vision. Now, if only I can find a shop I can hide in as she passes by.
There. A clothing store is mere inches away from me. The perfect place to hide. I swing the door open and shut it behind me as I rush in. I crash into one of the vacant changing rooms, locking it behind me.
Safe at last, I put my back against the door and slide down, finally able to breathe easy again. My thoughts begin to clear, and my heartbeat slows down.
There. I’ve done it. I’ve escaped.
But not from everything. Not yet.
I take another deep breath to clear my mind. I need to figure out a way out of this mess.
“Hello?” A voice asks from behind the door. “Are you okay in there?”
I stop breathing immediately.
The Monster Within 