Post by Lost on Nov 25, 2012 1:05:36 GMT -6
Within the ruins of the city, the sound of footfalls could be heard. Pacing in and out of the fallen buildings, around the decimated roads, and upon the crunching grasses of the occasional decorative patch of foliage. A black cloak swept the stones of the streets with small whispers and swishes that matched the soft footsteps with such perfection that the sounds made a sort of hypnotic rhythm. Like the slow, steady beat of dripping water, so was the beat of the paces. The kind of sound that is so in time and on beat that one may find themselves listening to it for the sheer fact of its intrigue. What is this world was utterly perfect to begin with?
Emerald green eyes were turned to the ground to stare sightlessly at the cracked weeds that peeped from between the dislodged stones. They turned to the heaping and overflowing mounds of rubble and half-demolished buildings that lay around them. To the smell of rotting flesh that showed that some had not escaped unscathed. To the street ahead that seemed to stretch on and on with more carnage... Such destruction... A smile spread across the pair of crimson painted lips that were barely visible from under the hood of the cloak. Perhaps to comfort herself in the midst of all of the ruin? A child's hope...
A hand slipped from the inside of the cloak to tug lightly as the ornate swirling gold broach that held the soft black cloth closed. the nails were well trimmed and unpainted yet the nail tips seemed to hold a pale white that added to the hand's rather elegant look. A single bracelet of delicate gold chain encircled the small wrist. It glinted a bit in the sun as the hand readjusted the broach... and a scream sounded far off in the distance.
~~~~~~~ A Little Ways Off ~~~~~~~
The man stumbled and fell. In his haste, his hand slipped upon the stony ground and his head collided painfully with the earth below. But even through the pain of his now bleeding forehead, his panic drove him scrambling back to his feet an urged him to run on. No. No He couldn't stop now! He couldn't stop!
His breath dragged from his lungs with more and more effort- each rolling intake and exhale becoming more and more ragged and raspy with time. But still, he begged them to keep going. His legs were on fire. He urged them to press against the ground harder. His mind raced. He let it fuel his flight. Not even bothering to look back over his shoulder, he ran on. He knew it was there. He knew it was still chasing him. Even if he couldn't see it, he knew it was still there! He could feel its breath on his neck. He could feel it's claws rattling the ground at his heels. He could feel it's eyes on his back. It was still there!
Please- oh please... Please someone help me!
He tried to scream out, but his throat was so dry that it only was a thought. The only sound that came out was bout of heaving coughs that stung his mouth and stomach more and blurred his vision with pain risen tears. He covered his mouth with one sweat dripped hand... He felt something wet splatter upon it. He withdrew his hand just enough to look upon the appendage. A grave mistake. Blood...
Naturally this only increased his panic. His eyes widened, his breath caught, his mind jolted- he fell. This time, he would not be rising. His body was attacking itself from the inside out! With a deafening scream, he rolled to his back to watch as he was descended upon by the creature. Crossing his hands in front of his face in a weak attempt to guard himself, he was soon ripped into a bloody, gore ridden mess. He never had a chance... being killed from the inside... and the outside.
Clara looked upon the mass of left over flesh at her feet, no emotion showing on the young girl's face as she surveyed the mess. Only her hands shook the slightest bit. But... what had just happened?
She pulled her porcelain hand from her throat and gingerly placed two of the fingers upon what would have been the neck of the man. "..." No signs of life...
The realization fresh in her mind, she took a few steps back from the corpse, drawing her hand back in fear. He was... dead.
