on the third day (original work)

on the third day

---

The world shifted ever so slightly, a shade of wrong coloring the strange surroundings. Buildings layered the odd area, people nowhere to be found. There was blood in the streets. His blood, of course. 

 

Lights came from small lamps at the edges of doorways, and the man thought he could see a few fires in the distance. The fire was what gave him hope — (that’s offensive. what about me?) — and that’s what he was running to. The constant echo of his feet on the ground below couldn’t drown out the peals of laughter behind him. (run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run — ) Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run. The chanting grew louder.

 

There was another round of laughter behind him, — (can’t run forever, the beast will get you soon!) — but he paid it no heed. Cool sweat dripped on his face, his arms swinging wildly behind him. He was stumbling, his heavy feet in the way.
He hadn’t ran much as a child, — (didn’t i tell you that?) — but no one really did, did they? (run, run, run, run, run...)
   

A low, strangled sound escaped his throat, making it’s way through his heart, beating on and on. (and on and on and on and on — )
It reaches out for his arm — faster, faster! — and he cried out, blindly shaking it away. (should’ve learned the lesson. ain’t no running from us.) And he ran even faster — (not fast enough) never fast enough — 
   

Stumbling, again, not enough for it to catch him, but that won’t be the same soon. He sucked in a large gulp of air, but he needs more. (not for long.)
   

It growled. Another sound was released into the night, this time more high in pitch. No more lights flicked on. He kept running and running and running and running. There was no stopping, no slowing, just going. He couldn’t keep running for long. Why? Why this?
   

There was a gash in his arm from where it’s talens (no, no, no, they’re claws) had slashed through his shirt. Blood seeped through the tattered shirt, but that didn’t matter. No, it couldn’t matter. Not now. (never, don’t you know?)
   

He thinks about giving up and laying down to accept his punishment. (that would be nice. wouldn’t have to chase you anymore. but then again, where’s the fun in that?) That solution was looking better every minute. (heh, heh. did you realize you stopped thinking in past tense? not that it matters.)
   

Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run —
   

He stopped. The beast approaches him from behind, taking it’s time, because it even knows he’s not going to run anymore. (what’d’ya know?)
   

He takes a breath, thinks of his father, and breathes. In and out. In and out. In and out. 
   

It pauses behind him. (you know it has to be this way?)
   

I know.
   

(we’re going to rip you apart again.)
   

I know.
   

(well, then. are you ready?) There’s hot air at the back of his neck. There’s a subtle pause in the conversation. The owner of the beast smiles, the beast copying the grotesque movement. 
   

No.
   

(you just hate saying yes, don’t you?) There’s no answer. (have it your way.)
There’s no point in running anymore. He looks up, to where the sky was beginning to fade. Of course. He hadn’t even made it that far. (like it? i know, it stinks to never make it out, huh?)
The sky fades of reveal blackness, and the cars fade away, too. The beast and master smile. (all you have to do is stop fighting, you know. don’t you want it to end?)
   

And become like you?
   

(heh. something like that, yes.)
   

He doesn’t stop to truly consider the offer, but takes his time. Stalling. One breath later, he says his answer.
   

No.
   

The beast and owner growl as one. The beast takes a step forward. Don’t give up... Run, run, run, run...You must do this.
   

(trying to encourage yourself?) They snort at the man’s thoughts, but tense when the man moves. He turns back to look at the beast, and the master smiles. (your tenses still need some work. how is the dear human supposed to record this if you keep switching?)

This part doesn’t need recording, not all of it, at least. He runs, giving no warning. And runs and runs and runs and runs and runs and runs and runs...There’s a beat to this. Little did they know, the beat was his way of measuring time. Only three days, and I’m already on my second.

 

It cried out in distress and yowled for others to help it capture him. (stop running! just give up.) He kept running past the others and whatever else was at the edge of his vision, and made his way to the center. Gates guarded the seemingly devoid space. There was nothing there, except a chill that couldn’t be felt anywhere else. A presence comes to the man.

 

“Fool. You are here, and you believe yourself to be greater than me?”

 

He doesn’t answer the being, only walks calmly through the Gates. The being wrestles for his power, to stop him, to kill him forever, but it is hardly a fair fight. The man walks forward, closing his eyes and the chill goes away, and the prior warmth slips away.

 

When he opens his eyes, it is dark, and it is the third day. He rises.