Status: Done. Dusted. Delightful.
Walk Softly
Un.
As he ran his feet sunk into the bitter snow and his breath surfaced in haggard gasps. There was nothing but sinister darkness. The foot steps behind him had long since ceased, the panting and the shouts no longer infected the air. It left him alone in the solitude of open fields. Tears stung his eyes as he pushed forward. The wind cut right through his frail clothing right to his bones. His chest felt tight and his legs ached, his ribs protested and his shins threatened defeat; but he forced onwards.
His mind moved like clockwork. Where was everyone? What had happened? Should I go back? Again and again he mused them over and yet answered none.
Onward he pressed. His cheeks and nose growing raw, his limbs feeling heavier and more fragile with every movement. He took a few more pained lunges forward before his knees buckled and he collapsed into the bitter and crisp snow.
“Mike!” he screamed out into the gloom.
Gingerly he twisted his body around to view all possible angles; but to no avail. He could see nor make out anything. His breath quickened and hitched in his throat; his heart beat pounded in his chest. Through the whistling of the wind in his ears he faintly heard the crunching of footsteps echoing in the void. Immediately the man jumped to his feet and struggled forward into the bitter wind.
***
When Billie Joe Armstrong and Mike Dirnt had suggested a trip to a cabin for the winter he was led to think that the vacation would entail a fire, snowball fights and lots of hot coco. Not this. He had been woken early that morning by Billie Joe and rushed from the warmth of his bedroom. He was given no explanation, not even when the three men were huddled under nearby pines, all still clad in their thin bedclothes. A maniacal laugh and a grunt drove them to roam out into the open. For a while there was only the sound of each other gasping for breath and the sound of their bare feet in the snow, it was soon accompanied by pained screams and then there was only him.
***
As he ran he contemplated his chances of dying of hypothermia. He silently begged to be taken by the cold rather that what was out there; he wanted to suffer a less cruel fate than that of his friends. The small amount of brittle positivity told him this wasn’t about dying; giving up was not an option.
Frantically he searched for a sign that he had moved at all. He felt himself running but yet saw no change of scenery; for all he knew the movement could all be in his mind. Everything was the same out here. The snow he disrupted was the same off white as its neighbour; the darkness he ran into was as ominous as the rest. Nothing could be seen only the glow against the gloom. Over and over, no matter what way he turned; Identical.
The urgency of the other footfalls increased and the man made a silent prayer to God that he would survive this. He forced his throbbing limbs into the blizzard whisper Hail Mary’s as he did. Never before had he been remotely religious; until now.
“Billie Joe! Mike! Anyone!” he screeched, “Can anyone he—“
His terror was cut short by an icy hand clenching around his mouth. He fought against the heavy force, his arms and legs kicking out to try and connect with something solid but they were only met with air and snow. His already frostbitten fingers gripped into the soft powder as he was dragged backwards, he dug in his heels and twisted his body trying to gain some sort of leeway.
The kidnapper spat something at him in a language he could not understand. Something heavy and blunt connected with his skull and he became motionless.
His mind moved like clockwork. Where was everyone? What had happened? Should I go back? Again and again he mused them over and yet answered none.
Onward he pressed. His cheeks and nose growing raw, his limbs feeling heavier and more fragile with every movement. He took a few more pained lunges forward before his knees buckled and he collapsed into the bitter and crisp snow.
“Mike!” he screamed out into the gloom.
Gingerly he twisted his body around to view all possible angles; but to no avail. He could see nor make out anything. His breath quickened and hitched in his throat; his heart beat pounded in his chest. Through the whistling of the wind in his ears he faintly heard the crunching of footsteps echoing in the void. Immediately the man jumped to his feet and struggled forward into the bitter wind.
***
When Billie Joe Armstrong and Mike Dirnt had suggested a trip to a cabin for the winter he was led to think that the vacation would entail a fire, snowball fights and lots of hot coco. Not this. He had been woken early that morning by Billie Joe and rushed from the warmth of his bedroom. He was given no explanation, not even when the three men were huddled under nearby pines, all still clad in their thin bedclothes. A maniacal laugh and a grunt drove them to roam out into the open. For a while there was only the sound of each other gasping for breath and the sound of their bare feet in the snow, it was soon accompanied by pained screams and then there was only him.
***
As he ran he contemplated his chances of dying of hypothermia. He silently begged to be taken by the cold rather that what was out there; he wanted to suffer a less cruel fate than that of his friends. The small amount of brittle positivity told him this wasn’t about dying; giving up was not an option.
Frantically he searched for a sign that he had moved at all. He felt himself running but yet saw no change of scenery; for all he knew the movement could all be in his mind. Everything was the same out here. The snow he disrupted was the same off white as its neighbour; the darkness he ran into was as ominous as the rest. Nothing could be seen only the glow against the gloom. Over and over, no matter what way he turned; Identical.
The urgency of the other footfalls increased and the man made a silent prayer to God that he would survive this. He forced his throbbing limbs into the blizzard whisper Hail Mary’s as he did. Never before had he been remotely religious; until now.
“Billie Joe! Mike! Anyone!” he screeched, “Can anyone he—“
His terror was cut short by an icy hand clenching around his mouth. He fought against the heavy force, his arms and legs kicking out to try and connect with something solid but they were only met with air and snow. His already frostbitten fingers gripped into the soft powder as he was dragged backwards, he dug in his heels and twisted his body trying to gain some sort of leeway.
The kidnapper spat something at him in a language he could not understand. Something heavy and blunt connected with his skull and he became motionless.
♠ ♠ ♠
I am a complete bitch for cliff hangers. Comments honestly boost my ego.