Daily Writing - Just Run Orange Juice.

February 22, 2017 // Tagged in: daily writing, flash writing

He ran, faster than he had ever run in his life, and for longer. He could feel it somewhere behind him, giving chase. He'd dropped his bags, cans scattered across the road and a bag of rice popped open. He hadn't been able to process the sight he'd witnessed, the dark red almost black under the florescent lights, the twisted look of terror, the indescribable horror that hunched over her. The speed its head turned to face him as the jar of pickles that had been in his bag smashed on the paving slab. His eyes widened, but not a moment was wasted, luckily for him, his brain flipped into flight mode as opposed to freezing him on the spot and bolted down the road screaming incoherently.

"What was it?" he thought haphazardly, "Where was it from? What was it doing? Where am I going? Where am I?" the questions piled up one after another. He passed a very confused looking man who must have thought he was mad running past hollering that "it" was coming. A loud noise behind him, he turned to see the man he'd just passed bounce off a car bonnet. He doubled his pace, tears streaming, panting, desperate for air, every muscle in his body screamed out in agony, but his brain demanded he go on. He stumbled and rolled over, for a moment he was there on all four staring at the ground, praying, he squeezed his eyes shut then heard the chomping of the thing. He didn't date look back again, he just stood up and ran. His legs fought against him every step of the way, the pain seemed to flare through his very bones, his lungs ached, his vision was blurred, but he kept running.

"I'm just a regular guy; I work in an office, I just work with numbers all day, what's going on?" He reached a staircase and started running up, it was as if he was in a tunnel unable to see left or right, everything was a blur, and the sound of his heart pounding obscured all sound now. He tripped over the last step and fell to the ground again, he could feel the pain in the palms of his hands where he'd grazed them stopping his fall, his glasses fell and smashed somewhere, but he dragged himself up and carried on running.

"It's hopeless. I'm going to die." The streets were empty, the lights all off, he slumped by a vending machine and rummaged through his pocket, some loose change. He snorted through the tears a strange, desperate last laugh, he dragged himself up and popped the money into the machine, one, two, three coins. Then he pressed the button, "Orangenia" the machine rattled a moment, and his drink dropped out, then some music, he laughed out loud this time. He'd won a second drink! His lucky day. He picked up his two bottles of drink and enjoyed the orangy goodness.

"Ah, what a day."