Angry voices ripped their way through the cold winter air and slapped him as he ran. He stumbled, snow flying into his open, panting mouth. He spat. Crawling to his feet, he returned to the same shambling run as before.
He trailed red on the new-broken crust of snow.
Eventually, he would be free. He knew it. So he kept running until hope and energy died together.
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ALL THE ACTION VERBS MAKE ME HAPPY. I just read a chapter on them.
ReplyDeleteFree of what, exactly?
I have a picture in my head, and I very much want to know whether it's similar to yours. I'm basically seeing a concentration camp escapee.
Way to end with the feeling of death while denying the idea.
I saw something more vague Janelle. I simply saw a man running, running from what I don't know, but just...running. Running so long that his feet were bleeding. Running. Knowing that if he could just make it ten more steps, then ten more, then ten more, he would make it. He collapses on the ground. He'll take a break...Just a breather....And when he regains his strength, he'll be home free.
ReplyDeleteBut it simply ebbs away...and he knows it. He struggles anyway, pushing his body to the absolute limit, knowing, in the back of his mind, that it's all for nothing. Tears streaming, he can't give up.....until he simply...can't.
btw, I really like this piece Robby. I'll be honest. I generally love your 'sad' pieces.
I saw a fox running from hounds.
ReplyDeleteOh, yeah. And ACTION VERBS FTW
ReplyDeleteOoh yes I can see all of those things.
ReplyDeleteI hate fox-hunting.