Rifle Shot

February 25, 2012
By bandgeekfreak DIAMOND, No Answer, Texas
bandgeekfreak DIAMOND, No Answer, Texas
59 articles 0 photos 30 comments

Favorite Quote:
“A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.” Abraham Maslow.

I gasp for breath as I run through the woods. Branches slap my face, raking across my skin as I tear through them. I can’t see where I’m going since it is a new moon. I stumble, but regain my footing quickly and continue on. There is a stich in my side and all I want to do is collapse onto the cool ground. But I can’t because if I do I’ll be died in minutes. I hear the heavy footfalls of my pursuer behind me and they make my blood run cold. My bare foot catches on a root and I tumble downward towards the hard ground. My wrist slams into the dirt and pain sears through my arm. I push myself back up and force my aching legs to run. I can’t breathe anymore, and my legs are shaking so bad that I’m afraid they are going to just collapse. I hear the gunshot and scream in pain as the bullet rips through my shoulder. I fall to the forest floor and hear the heavy footsteps that I have been running from approach. My vision blurs as he stands above me. From my place on the ground I realize just how big he is, and just how small I am. He is reaching towards me and I want to run, scream, anything but terror keeps me motionless, noiseless. He yanks my head up by my hair and my neck snaps backwards. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to imagine happier times. He releases my hair and I slump back to the ground like a doll. I peek through my eyes to see him loading his rifle again. I see him point it at me and close my eyes. I know what’s next. I hear the crack, and pain explodes for an instant before I see whiteness.

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