Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Write in the MYSTERY genre (04/05/07)
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TITLE: Run for your life | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sedona Duchnick
04/07/07 -
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A bullet hits a mailbox and ricochets off with a ping. Another bullet lodges into a tree, and one strikes a crow, passing in mid-flight. I keep running. I can’t, won’t, look back. My breath is slowly becoming heavy, not so even. Ragged.
I have to stop soon. My lungs are on fire. The road on my left is becoming a blur of gray and white.
I take a chance to look behind me. Dumb move. As I turn I stumble and trip one of many deep gray stones lying uselessly on the side of the road in the sparse grass. A shot rings out from the gun and explodes in my shoulder as I fall to my knees. The grass is the soft color of a baby blanket. I stare at a small piece poking up from the dirt before coming to my senses.
I rise to my feet as quickly as I can with aching, bruised knees. I wince as the sudden motion sends my wounded shoulder into more pain. I hear another shot and it lands on the road, leaving a small smoking hole. I turn into the forest at my right and begin running through the trees. I’m tiring quickly; my legs and shoulder explode in pain whenever my feet hit the ground.
Leaves and thorns scratch at my face. I keep running and running, refuse to stop.
I reach a small, empty clearing, illuminated by the moon’s glow. Unable to stand anymore, I fall again to my knees, shuddering at the sharp pain. My hand moves unconsciously to the guitar pick strung onto a chain and hanging around my neck. I remember what my dad told me when he gave it to me on his death bed.
“Always face your fears head on. You can’t always run and hide. Fight baby. Fight. I believe in you always. And so does God.” He whispered in a shallow voice. “I want you to have this necklace.”
“But Dad…it’s your special necklace!” I protested, horror in my voice.
“Take it darling. I don’t need it no more.” He smiled weakly.
I reached out with shaking hands and unclasped the necklace. I put it around my own neck instead. My father smiled as the pick dangled in front of my chest.
“I love you Jaine.” He murmured. Then his bright green, twinkling eyes faded, and closed.
“I’m sorry Daddy.” I sobbed into his bloody chest.
He died.
There’s a noise behind me.
“You are going to die.” The lady says seriously, staring into my scared eyes.
I stand tall and straight, glare into her dark, hating eyes. He stares back. Without warning, I kick the gun from his hands and run again. But I forgot to get the gun.
I hear the man muttering, cursing. I hear him pick up then gun…but I don’t hear him follow me.
Someone grasps me by the hair, pulls up so my neck is stretched and I’m looking into her cold eyes. The eyes of my step mother. “You killed him.” She says, a touch of hysteria in her voice.
“I didn’t mean to!” I cry, tears fall down my cheeks at the memory of me killing my father in a burst of blinding anger. At least he made it to the hospital.
There’s a figure approaching from the road…in a blue uniform. A police officer. He pulls the gun away from my step mother.
“Wait.” I say, my voice marked with hysteria too.
I put my hand on my blood soaked back.
My mother, who’s hand are held behind her back, looks up at me, and so does the officer.
“I killed my father.” I say. Then I faint from blood loss.
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