Love of Darkness
The Chase
She ran.
The streets were wet like the tears on her face, but she ran.
Her long, white hair bounced with every beat of her stride, grasping for the fallen angel who was way behind her now. The thought of him crouching in pain on the street corner, his beautiful wings slashed, flew across her mind.
"I'm going to kill this man", she said to herself through her clenched jaw.
She clutched Flynt's sword harder and let go a warrior yell. The black concrete beneath her black boots splashed up rain puddles onto her ripped jeans. She felt as if all of the rage, all of the passionate anger she had ever felt in her life, was flooding into her nerves all at once, infiltrating her arm and leg muscles as they ran at seemingly cheetah speed. The wind whipped forcefully at her face, making an urgent swoosh sound in her ears, and making it even harder to see through the new tears it had generated.
The man named Jay with the cornrows looked back at her and laughed, despite his struggle to simultaneously hold his pants up and her Soul Glass while sprinting away.
She ran.
He ran faster.
Her blood curdled.
She let out another warrior yell as they raced around the corner of an abandoned building, then through another wet street, then through a pocket park with grass that needed to be trimmed. He leaped over a flight of cement stairs like a gazelle with a broken leg. She followed. She wanted to stab herself for being such a horrible runner. It was getting harder for her to breath, but shear adrenaline kept her going like the energizer bunny on crack.
Boom. Clink. A bullet landed somewhere nearby. She looked back at the other man, Kent, who was now chasing after her with a huge dumb grin on his face and a handgun pointed right at her. He shot again. This time, the bullet bounced off the swords' forcefield and flew right back at him like a boomerang.
"Ow!" Kent yelped. "Son of a bitch! What the hell?" He clenched the dark red stain on his white shirt where his shoulder was, slowing down to a clumsy hobble.
Her mind could not process the shock she should have felt. Strengthening her grip on the sword, she continued to run on toward the man who carried her life in his hand. Cornrow Jay.
To her dismay, he turned onto a steep road, laughing incredulously. The things she wanted to do to his weather-beaten face flashed through her racing mind.
Her whole body ached. Minutes felt like hours. It began to feel like dragging heavy weights everywhere, but her legs were on overdrive and would not stop. She glanced up at her sword. The blade shone with mystical energies that protected her and allowed her to harness her deepest emotion. Every time her fingers squeezed the bone hilt, her swirling, raw anger seemed to oozed underneath the surface of her skin like the lava lamp she had as a child.
Her drift in attention, though brief, was a mistake. Somehow her feet betrayed her and she tumbled to the ground, the sword cartwheeling through the misty air, and as she watched, the last amount of her anger and horror disappeared.
The streets were wet like the tears on her face, but she ran.
Her long, white hair bounced with every beat of her stride, grasping for the fallen angel who was way behind her now. The thought of him crouching in pain on the street corner, his beautiful wings slashed, flew across her mind.
"I'm going to kill this man", she said to herself through her clenched jaw.
She clutched Flynt's sword harder and let go a warrior yell. The black concrete beneath her black boots splashed up rain puddles onto her ripped jeans. She felt as if all of the rage, all of the passionate anger she had ever felt in her life, was flooding into her nerves all at once, infiltrating her arm and leg muscles as they ran at seemingly cheetah speed. The wind whipped forcefully at her face, making an urgent swoosh sound in her ears, and making it even harder to see through the new tears it had generated.
The man named Jay with the cornrows looked back at her and laughed, despite his struggle to simultaneously hold his pants up and her Soul Glass while sprinting away.
She ran.
He ran faster.
Her blood curdled.
She let out another warrior yell as they raced around the corner of an abandoned building, then through another wet street, then through a pocket park with grass that needed to be trimmed. He leaped over a flight of cement stairs like a gazelle with a broken leg. She followed. She wanted to stab herself for being such a horrible runner. It was getting harder for her to breath, but shear adrenaline kept her going like the energizer bunny on crack.
Boom. Clink. A bullet landed somewhere nearby. She looked back at the other man, Kent, who was now chasing after her with a huge dumb grin on his face and a handgun pointed right at her. He shot again. This time, the bullet bounced off the swords' forcefield and flew right back at him like a boomerang.
"Ow!" Kent yelped. "Son of a bitch! What the hell?" He clenched the dark red stain on his white shirt where his shoulder was, slowing down to a clumsy hobble.
Her mind could not process the shock she should have felt. Strengthening her grip on the sword, she continued to run on toward the man who carried her life in his hand. Cornrow Jay.
To her dismay, he turned onto a steep road, laughing incredulously. The things she wanted to do to his weather-beaten face flashed through her racing mind.
Her whole body ached. Minutes felt like hours. It began to feel like dragging heavy weights everywhere, but her legs were on overdrive and would not stop. She glanced up at her sword. The blade shone with mystical energies that protected her and allowed her to harness her deepest emotion. Every time her fingers squeezed the bone hilt, her swirling, raw anger seemed to oozed underneath the surface of her skin like the lava lamp she had as a child.
Her drift in attention, though brief, was a mistake. Somehow her feet betrayed her and she tumbled to the ground, the sword cartwheeling through the misty air, and as she watched, the last amount of her anger and horror disappeared.