Run. Wait. Exterminated.

My machete sprung into life, ripping through the dense bushes of the wild, torches of flame were trailing me, lighting up the dead of the night, I was in deep trouble, invoked the whole village to hunt me down because of my inadvertent blunder. The throng of angry bunch was shouting, screaming in rage.

The animosity was catching up, I was slowing down due to the exhaustion, and running with bare foot. Adrenaline rushed into my bloodstream, textbook response from my body, necessary hormones blast their way through their respective organs to enhance my movement. I skimmed through the vicinity and found a lake which was a few feet to my right.

I maneuvered off the bat, crashing myself into the water with the least sound possible, taking in a deep breath to embrace the long wait. The water prickled my skin, it was bone cold. I did not look up, I bowed down, praying silently, imploring to whoever that was called God, pleading for His mercy, trusting him by this impromptu, desperate faith to live on.

My position was vulnerable, if they pulled me out of this puddle, I am screwed. Discarding the distressful thoughts, I left my mind blank, focusing all the air that was remaining inside me, controlling my tissues to use up less oxygen.

You son-of-a-bitch! You deserve this shit! You fucking murder our whole family! The villagers was under a rage spell. I was accused of slashing away a few lives in the village which I did not. You motherfucker, I’m gonna murder your sorry ass! At that tonality, I raced to my cottage, picked up my trusty machete.

I looked down at my hands, breaking the flashback, it was not in my hand, I probably left it beside the puddle. Shit… I released some air bubbles, took in some bitter, dirty water, choking myself in the process. I need to stay down. I told myself as there were balls of fire hovering on top of the surface of the water, glares of murderous eyes hunting for me.

Hope they are dumb enough to not see my machete… “Guys! I found his machete laying over here!” The diversion… I emerged my head to the surface to take my last breath as my head was violently pulled out by one of the villagers. “You motherfucker. You think you can fucking run away after fucking around with us?” They wanted to kill me, badly.

“Looking for this, asshole?” he pointed my machete at my throat, some of the villagers pointed their weapons at my vital organs, tears of fear rolled down my face, the petrichor of death lingered upon me, few drops of dew saturated upon me, light spears of rain started to pour, “Any last words?” he was furious, their eyes were filled with revenge, hatred, a one-way ticket to insanity, no turning back.

It was worthless to even try to talk sense into them. I spat unto his face, grunted, “Fuc…” All of them plunged their weapons into me, piercing me like a woodoo doll, ten thousand pain receptors responded at the same time, they dumped me back into the puddle that I hid away from them. Leaving me to bleeding, suffocating, to a slow, long death.


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Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

9 thoughts on “Run. Wait. Exterminated.

  1. Excellent post. I was checking continuously this blog and I am impressed! Extremely helpful information specially the last part 🙂 I care for such information much. I was seeking this certain info for a long time. Thank you and best of luck.

  2. Hey There. I found your blog using msn. This is a really well written article. I will be sure to bookmark it and come back to read more of your useful information. Thanks for the post. I will definitely comeback.

  3. It is very good writing! I’m not much of a storyteller, I just say it like it is. You, on the other hand, have great ideas and make them come to life!!!

  4. What motivates you to writing?
    How goes your writing process?
    You are thinking about something and then writing, or ideas jump into your head just like that and then you’re writing?
    Have a nice day.

    1. 1. A mentor, it is all at my about page and the hope to promulgate my stories of hope to people, and maybe to someone whom I love.
      2. It is really messy, I post everyday, literally every night at 2200 I would reserve a short time to write, if I were to write a series, I would plan out a bit first then I write with the flow.
      3. Both of them occur to me all the time, some days I just had no ideas, those days are the worst.

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