Run

Something I wrote during a long car journey. I don't know what genre it is supposed to be in, so I put "other". It didn't fit in with anything else on the given list. So if you do know then please tell me

PS: It is rated yellow because of swear words used within, to hopefully make the anger sound a little bit more realistic? (People swear when they're angry, it's life)

PPS: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give feedback

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3. Chapter 3

"We don't know how far she’s gone.”

“I’m not going down there!”

“Well someone has to check if she’s dead!”

“What do you mean- if she’s dead?! Who’s gone down there and not died?”

“She might not have gone very far down!”

“What difference does that make?”

“I don’t know- but there’s a chance she might not get killed down there!”

“A billionth of a chance! Besides, you heard her scream as much as I did”

“If it was a cave-in, the noise would have completely blocked the sound of her scream.”

“If you want to make sure she’s dead, either go down yourself or stay here and guard the entrance so she can’t escape. But I’m not helping you!”

“Fine! We've been arguing the same point for far too long for me to care! Anyone else who isn’t a coward can come and get her with me"

 

Shit. I take my ear away from the door and arguing voices, backing away from the door as fast as I can while keeping my right ankle high up off the floor.

Please say they don’t decide to come down here!!

I suddenly realise how resounding my breathing has become; close my mouth to breathe through my nose whilst flipping myself over so I’m on my hands and knees. As I crawl the tunnel begins to slope downwards. Uneasiness begins to churn in my stomach, growing with every move I make, threatening to send shock-waves of panic through every nerve, vein and fibre of my being.

I don’t know how long I’ve gone on for when I realise I can’t feel mud or earth underneath my palms. Just rock. I’ve reached the unstable parts!

Every sense I have is on full alert. My ears strain to hear something, even the tiniest of ominous signs. My life may just depend upon it. In the blind blackness I bash my shoulder on the walls. The cuts begin to pang and throb where they touched the sharp crag, and my muscles ache like I’m trying to push myself through concrete. I gently push myself up onto just my knees and slowly move one arm out to grope for the way forward. It’s somewhere to my right.

Then I hear the roar as rock mixed with diminutive amounts of metal- all that was left from the mining here about 50 years ago- crashes down, obliterating anything beneath.

Terror flares up, kindling panic which rushes through my blood down my spine, spreading to my limbs, muscles until every atom; every electron is filled with it. Control over myself is washed away with caution in a surge of desperate energy. My fingers grip whatever they can grasp on the rough walls as I frantically fumble to turn around and scramble back up the tunnel, my knees nearly rubbed raw by the ruggedness. Screams of pure fright and horror tear up my throat and through my teeth but are lost in the sonority so that I barely know I’m making any noise at all.

Where the rock is sharp it punctures my skin. Despite my efforts to ignore the stinging pain, my hands are soon bloody and slip on the edges as I push myself faster, the ever-constant, thundering rumble behind nearly deafening me.

Suddenly I crash into the side of the tunnel with the side of my head. My knees skid… I only manage to catch myself with one hand and hang there, my chest and head raised off the ground, my legs lying on the down-sloping ground. My muscles shriek in protest as I helplessly feel my fingers loosen and come free, scraping on the surface.  My other hand grabs onto the edge of another crevice before I can fall. My weight seems to be getting heavier by the second, as my feet struggle to get a grip on the floor. Tears of pain run down my cheeks as fire pulses in my ankle, waves of flame burning to the ends of my toes and up my leg. But somehow I manage to find footing and pull myself up again.

I want to stop moving, to lie down and fall into blackness and forget the agony, but the turbulence behind is getting more and more rambunctious. My body moves of its own accord, my knees and arms force themselves to half-throw my weight forward every time I move up the tunnel, trying not to slip again or cut my hands and knees so much. I push myself faster, trying not to care about the agony as rough and sharp points pierce and file away at the skin on my palms and kneecaps. But all wishes of succumbing have been eradicated from my mind

Got to keep going… I’ll make it if I crawl… Forget the pain

My breath begins to come in gasps, either of agony or exhaustion I don’t know. All I can feel is a blind panic and the urge to move faster. The intensity of the din nearly blowing up my eardrums, I crawl on. For a moment I wonder how big it is.

How far away is safe? Do I have to go outside the tunnels? So I die either by being buried alive or by their methods?

No. That’s not going to happen! I’m going to get out of this alive. It’s going to be alright.

 

 

 

Isn’t it?

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