Death Walking

by Ember Joy about a year ago in fiction

How do I do this?

Death Walking

Running, dashing, racing, call it what you want but that's what I was doing. I couldn't look back in fear of my life being snatched away by the creatures chasing after me. My heart was beating in my ears and my legs were throbbing, begging for me to stop but I just couldn't.

I cursed under my breath before making a sharp turn; jumping over a log as my strides continued. My eyes began to water, fear taking over as damning questions filled my head. 'Will I make it? Why is this happening? What's gonna happen to me?' But soon, I saw a glimmer of hope. A small cabin in the distance, a few hundred yards away.

"Come on feet, come on. You can do this!" I yelled to myself before kicking it into high gear, running faster than I ever thought I could, especially since it's been so long since I've eaten.

After relentless running, I finally made it to the cabin, forcing the door open and slamming it shut. Decaying arms managed to peak through; adrenalin rushing through me managed to slam the door shut, the arms falling off. After I locked the door, I used a table to keep it closed, the smell of death assaulting my nostrils.

"Damn, I knew these things stank, but I didn't know it was that bad." I groaned, kicking the hands to a corner. Closing the curtains, I decided to survey the house for something to use.

"Hello?" I call out to the air, seeing if someone or something else was lurking in the darkness. Banging on the windows and the walls made me jump, my heart already in the throat from all that running. I bang on the walls, calling others or creatures out of the shadows.

I made my way to a little kitchen, seeing only two cabinets opened and empty. My eyes lit up as I ran. I started opening the cabinets and my mouth watered at the sight of canned food.

"Holy hell, thank you, God," I cry out, gathering as many cans as I could carry, putting them in my canvas bag. I made my way to the refrigerator and almost shed tears at the sight of water. Reaching out, I yanked that water bottle in my hand and started guzzling what I could down. My body shivered at the refreshing glass, my throat contracting as it entered my stomach.

Something felt off about this house, so I grab a kitchen knife and made my way to the stairs. With each step, there was a little creek, a little squeak that would give me off. I held my knife tight in my hand despite its slight tremble. Slowly, I walked past a bathroom and made it to a closed door.

"Alright... Alright..." Taking hard, deep breaths, I kicked the door down, only to scream at the sight in front of me. The knife fell out of my hand as I covered my mouth in fear. Tears fell down my eyes.

Blood was splattered all over the walls, large pools on the headboard of a king size bed. That wasn't what got me crying; it was the two little children holding hands. Their mother was hugging them and their father, he held a shotgun in his hand.

Their brains splattered all over the walls, the windows, the ceilings. I couldn't stand to look; after I fell to my knees, I kicked myself out of the room and slammed the doors shut, my sobs were muffled by my hands.

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