Tuesday, February 8

end... An odd story

Breathing slowly and deeply I gaze towards the horizon. The figures in the amber red dance in the distance, the figures distorted by the distance, I can’t tell if they’re human or not. Linen rippling over my body as I rise and trudge forward, my rest is over. I have to keep moving, the dessert isn’t the only danger to me right now. I know that what’s following me is relentless, merciless and, for lack of a better term, evil.
The rough scratching in the sand tells me that I took my resting for longer than I should’ve and the metallic click told me to get the fuck out of there. Head down I run like hell, around me the sand reaches for the sun, bullets burying themselves into the dunes, save my flesh.
Biting the back of my neck, four bullets graze me, blood stains the white linen on my back. My own blood. I can feel the warmth mix with the sand on my skin, the world blurs and spins as I fall. Pain explodes across my spine as my body slams into the rough dunes.
The sun is blocked by my pursuer, I can’t make out his face or what he’s wearing, all I can see is the dark silhouette and the shine of the barrel. The red flash, then the white and then darkness, irrevocable and unending…
Best not to ask where I get my inspiration, there really isn’t anywhere. that was meant to be simply a story about meditation which ended with his death, interesting but no real meaning. It’s been a while since I’ve done something like that and it definitely feels good. Stay tuned for more. Please criticise, then there’ll be better stories!

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