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Run Run Run
White dress, bare feet. Frantic heart tainted. Thorns tearing at your clothes. Ripping, scratching, droplets forming a scarlet trail for him to follow.
Rough, ragged breath. Unshaven face and a cruel mind with a sharp knife, yet only as frightened as she is.
Tripping, crying, trying to keep you head. Slender maiden arms cut and bruised with a bidden determination. Only sound befalling your ears: silence, except for your own labored breath, and the night breathing with you.
Frantic searching for her. Thick arms, gloved hands throwing thorn’ed barriers aside- they who try to thwart your conquesting task and mission. Your desire. Angry glowering dark eyes as you think of hers- light blue, shining in fear, contrasted by dark hair.
Fruitless attempts to escape. A desperate fighting, struggle, a constant battle to reach the finish line; a race that cannot be run because the competitors will catch up with you and drag you away before you can protest. They will shackle you in chains until your ankles are bleeding and rubbed raw, till you can run no more.
You are winning. You know it and she knows it. She looks behind her as she stumbles and runs, torn, through briars and brambles- running from that which she cannot outrun. Blue eyes widen and despair strikes her heart, you are sure. You can see her struggling to even keep her fast leaving sanity intact.
You see him behind you, chasing relentlessly. And you are delirious and mad and slow and stop and fall. You laugh and laugh a deranged laugh because you are not ready yet. You never have been and you never will be. The hilarity mounts. All of this work- this fragile, fragile life, it was all for nothing. Just another wasted mind that was too foolish and too weak to overcome mans’ greatest fear and fault. So instead you ran and you ran because you knew not what else to do. You just knew that running would take you at least somewhere else. Somewhere that may not be better, but would at least you would be away from everyone and everything and try to forget every memory. But now you can’t run anymore. He has finally caught up with you.
Death cradles her in his arms.
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This is the short narration about how fleeting and frantic life can be at times. The girl, or Life, is pure and in white- soft and beautiful. On the other hand, Death is hard, rough, and unforgiving until the very end, when the girl "dies". I used the symbolism there of holding a baby, as if to say with each death comes new life. I went for a kind of ying-and-yang feel.