literature

MYST Ch. 2

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My muscles are burning. My heart roars in my ears. I hear their growls and screams behind me, but I don't care. I keep running despite the fact that I know they will catch up to me. I don't curse when my feet snap twigs or stomp on sharp rocks. There's only one thought in my mind, one thought keeping adrenaline constantly coursing throughout my body:
Run.
It doesn't matter that my lungs are burning like a wildfire inside of me. I don't care that I'm bleeding from several different wounds on my body. I just keep running, my skills as a wide receiver kicking me into overdrive. In this setting, it's survival of the fittest. They are the lions and I am the gazelle. I don't have a chance. But I'm too stubborn to give up now. I'm going to postpone my death as much as I possibly can.
The forest is starting to thin out. The trees are splitting up ahead. I can see the other side. I'm almost out! I'm going to make it! I'm going to make it!
"Shit!"
I fall face-first into the ground after something pierces me in between the shoulder blades. I'm writing in agony, my whole back on fire. There is nobody around to help me, nobody to even observe as the beasts move in to make their kill.
Get up! I scream in my head. Get up!
But I can't move. I can't even reach my arm behind me to pull the arrow out of my back. It's almost as if it's twisting and going deeper inside my body, always just out of my reach. Fire burns from the wound all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. I'm paralyzed with pain—and they've surrounded me.
The smell emanating off of them—of death and decay—fills my nose and brings tears to my eyes. I've never smelled anything like it before. It makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide away from the world.
"Somebody help me!" My voice is hoarse, thick with tears brought on by fear and pain.
The arrow is yanked from my back, making me scream in agony. The fire still remains. Some unseen force lifts me up into the air and throws me about fifty feet into a huge redwood tree, knocking the wind out of me with a whoosh.
It hurts so bad. I fall onto my back, staring up at the night sky. I'm taking in the full moon, the stars, trying to make as many mental images as possible. I want something peaceful, like the sky, to be the last thing I see, rather than a snarling face with great big yellow eyes.
I hear their footsteps over the sound of my ragged breathing. The smell is getting closer. I feel like I'm going to vomit. Shadows fall over me. I close my eyes, accepting the fact that this is it. This is the end of Jake Ryder.
Goodbye, Cruel World. I only hope that death doesn't suck as much as life.
I feel the fangs brushing against the sensitive skin of my throat, and I tense. This is it.
The sharp teeth have barely pierced through my skin before they're violently ripped out. Something has startled them enough to distract them from killing me. My eyes have flown open. We all are silent and motionless as a bloodcurdling scream rips through the night. My heart squeezes. Never in my life have I thought I'd hear a scream like this. It's a scream of distress, of absolute terror. It's a scream begging me to help but I'm unable to do anything about it. I can only lay on my back, listening to the heart-wrenching cry of agony.
"Jake!"
*************************************************************************************

I'm jolted out of my dream, gasping out in surprise. I'm covered in cold sweat, and I'm trembling uncontrollably. I sit up and hang my feet over the edge of my bed, allowing the soles to get used to the cold tile of the floor. After a few moments of calming myself down, I stand, throw a shirt on over the jeans I fell asleep in, and leave the room.
I creep by Jess's room, not wanting to wake her. Once in the kitchen, I realize that it's only four in the morning; school doesn't start for another three hours. With a sigh, I plop on the couch in the living room and turn the television on. This is the fourth time that I've had this same dream. Every night it ends the same way: with that same terrible scream. The first time I heard it, I'd thought that it was Jess who'd said my name. Upon checking up on her, I'd found her asleep in her room, completely undisturbed.
Weird, I know.
It's a girl's voice, that much I'm sure of. It's not Jess's. It's not my mom's. I've never heard it before, but for some reason, it tugs at my heart every time I hear it in my subconscious. Even after I wake up, I still have this emptiness inside of me. Who is she and why is she making me feel this way?
There's nothing exciting on television, just infomercials about the 'Wonder Onesie'. I'm bored quickly, and decided to make breakfast for me and Jess. I'm digging through the fridge, grabbing the carton of eggs and the orange juice pitcher, when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I turn around to see who's behind me.
Nobody is there.
Frowning, I push the fridge door closed with my elbow and walk to the stove, grabbing a frying pan for my eggs. I turn the stove on, crack a couple of eggs in the pan, and put the carton back in the fridge. I trudge over to the sink to wash my hands, but something on the counter catches my eye.
A leather-bound book is beckoning to me—and it wasn't there a minute ago.
I look at it for a second, thinking maybe something will happen if I stare at it long enough. After waiting with bated breath and nothing happening, I walk over to it hesitantly, reaching a shaky hand towards it.
The minute my fingers brush the cover, images flash in my mind like I'm watching a movie set on fast-forward. They're flashing by so fast that I can't distinguish any details. I see shapes, faces, but no distinct features. I'm actually getting a headache from the speed at which they're flying across my field of view.
Then, the last image comes to a stand-still, and I glimpse into a pair of bright yellow, almost cat-like eyes that stare at me with a glare that screams I'm going to kill you slowly and painfully. In a split second, the eyes are gone, and I can see again. I'm back in the kitchen, where a sound in emanating from the book. A roar that puts the MGM lion to shame fills the room. Dishes fall out of the cabinets. The room shakes, it's everything I can do not to fall on my ass.
Just as quickly as it began, the roar ceases, and it's quiet in the house once more aside from a haunting whisper in my ear that makes goose pimples break out all over my skin.
"Jake…"
chapter two :)
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