"THERE HE IS!! DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!!!"
URAAAAAAGH!!
A chorus of furious roars exploded through the air—"RAAGHHH! WAAHHH!"—each voice was a piece of pure, unfiltered rage.
A group of people, carrying torches, whips, and all sorts of torture devices, were chasing a man down a road.
"Huff... huff... huff..." His breaths tore through his lungs, each one sharper than the last. His feet slammed the ground and his heart pounded, he didn't dare stop.
Panic clawed at his throat—"Huff! Huff!"—as if the air itself was running away from him. The man ran like his life depended on it. He darted into a thick forest with haste.
He ran while avoiding the trees, ducking, jumping, and scrambling around.
Tweeeweee…
A sound rang out from above. Looking up, he saw an arrow descending toward him.
"Oh ****," he muttered, trying to pick up the pace, but he was already running as fast as he could.
Swoop!
He moved out of the way of the arrow, which landed straight beside him nearly grazing his shoulders.
"****!!!" He scrambled to his feet and kept running.
Tweeeweee…
Tweeewee…
Several more arrows were fired, descending toward him.
Swoop!
Swoop!
Moving frantically, he tried to dodge them. He was light on his feet dodging as many as was humanly possible, or even more. He swayed from left to right as if he had done it a thousand times.
AARGH!!
An arrow slammed into his back—shluk!—and he dropped without a sound.
He quickly picked himself up, the pain spreading throughout his body. He removed the arrow from his back, wheezing as he did so.
Blood trickled down from the large gash left by the arrow, but he couldn't let that stop him or slow him down, the consequence may be ghastly or even was... fatal. He discarded the arrow and kept moving.
The man dropped onto his four limbs and moved like a wild animal. He was dressed in a muddy supposedly white top and a black skirt like short.
He moved frantically across the hard, soft, grassy, and rocky terrain of the forest. He jumped and swung on branches, trying however he could to get away.
I wonder why I keep running.
He dodged an arrow going straight for his ear. He proceeded to leap over a large rock, landing on its other side, using the moment to catch his breath. He crouched beside it, using it as a temporary shield from the onslaught of arrows.
They say a man can find his weakness if he looks a little deeper.
The moment he noticed the pause in the arrows, he continued moving, not missing a beat.
So I wonder why I keep running.
BOOM!!
A rock slammed into the back of his head, causing him to tumble to the ground. He groaned in pain.
There isn't hope for me. They will always find me. Eventually…
He dusted the pain off with a grunt. He jumped and began swinging on the branches once again.
Maybe it's desperation…
His grip slipped from a branch, causing him to fall.
SNAP!
The sound of bone breaking rang out.
URGHH!
Letting out a grunt, he picked himself up, noticing his right hand was broken. With little to no time to think, he just tried to ignore the pain. Once again, he dusted the pain off and kept running. His heart thumped even louder. Gritting his teeth, the man kept moving.
Maybe it's hope for salvation…
He came to a river. He dived straight into it, swimming the best he could with one arm.
FWOOSH!!
Torches of fire were thrown into the river, making it scorching hot, but he kept swimming. He lifted his head for air.
WHOOSH!!
His eyes came face to face with an arrow.
Snapping his head to the side, he narrowly avoided the encounter.
I am not sure....
What I am sure about is that…
He reached land, his clothes soaked.
He continued his flight against his relentless pursuers.
I won't stop trying.
I won't stop running.
I won't let them have their way easily.
Picking up pace, he turned left down a path.
Humans will never really be able to destroy their weakness completely.
He came across a field with tall grass. He ran into it, scrambling through.
But they can find it, they can attack it, they can confront it. And this may make them feel better about themselves. It gives them some sort of... thrill, it makes their lives seem more meaningful. It even makes their faults seem more manageable.
He ran through the field with only one objective: escaping.
Some can overcome their weakness.
A man emerged from the grass, a sword in hand, striking at the running man arm.
While some are overcome by it.
SLASH!
PLOP!
The man's head came off his body, dropping to the ground. "Thanks for the weapon."
He somehow managed to take the sword and cut the man's head off.
One thing is for sure. If humanity gets rid of their weakness, all hell will break loose. But that isn't happening anytime soon.
Getting out of the field, his eyes landed on a group of raging people. Their eyes bloodshed and they were bubbling with rage.
"Well **** me—"*
BOOM!!
BANG!!
CRACK!!
- - -
Aftermath (Beware: A little gore)
He lay on the ground. Every bone in his body was broken, his eyes busted, leaving two gory holes. His belly was split open, intestines scattered across the floor.
He was bloodied and bashed. His skull was broken, his limbs torn, his brain spilling out. But he wasn't dead.
He wasn't breathing, because his lungs had been removed, but he wasn't dead.
He faced the dark sky, feeling empty. Feeling broken. Bloody tears flowed down his eyeless sockets, as if to say: Why? Why me? Why ******** me?!* He was in pure agony and prayed for death and nothing more. But he was used to it. This wasn't the first time, and it sure wouldn't be the last.
He fell unconscious with a heavy heart.