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  • Published: 6 Oct 2014
  • Updated: 29 Jan 2015
  • Status: Complete
"Run. Run where the rolling hills turn into nothingness and your swallowed by black. Run where you'll live to be free and love to be happy. Run where you will never. Ever. Look.Back."

***For the Ghosts Of Heaven Competition***


3. Repitive Running

The sun hammered down relentlessly, and a slight breeze whipped the golden grain of sands so they turned clumsy cartwheels along the floor. It seemed both strange and normal for sand to be on the ground of such a surrounding. Strange since this wasn’t a desert, but normal because it felt just like a desert.

Eleanor collapsed yet again. She seemed to be collapsing far too much, and yet again tried to steady her breathing. Something told her she couldn’t carry on. For days she had been running non-stop, unless she collapsed or had to sleep. Talking to herself had followed, and she was going crazy being so lonely.

Only somebody from another town would speak to her, although she was un-aware whether the posters of her had spread to anywhere else. Knowing them, they had.

What had been a previously azure sky was now a gorgeous mix of light violets and pastel pinks. The clouds, fluffy white whisps, decorated the colour yet Eleanor couldn’t enjoy the gorgeous sight.

Her mind was in hyper-drive. Fear slipped into her system, like a powerful drug, and circulated round her. Poisoning her veins, slowing everything down. Working its way into her mind, into her thoughts, into her actions. Fear has a way of doing that.

Loneliness was inevitable. Not having a companion, a friend, a family, was driving her to the point of insanity. If she was a witch, then she could magic up a new friend. Eleanor had to remind herself; she was not a witch.

Had they broken her? She was beginning to think she was what they had accused her of being! How had they done that? Perhaps fear had broken her. Perhaps the heat had broken her. Perhaps they had broken her. Whatever had broken her, had succeeded.

Picking herself up again, she could not begin to run. Instead she walked fast, and broke out into a slow jog.

The silence was incredible yet it killed Eleanor. She was dying of loneliness, of silence, of fear.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she jogged. Trying to convince herself it was the dust biting her ankles as she hit the ground, she knew too well the real reason. Every bit she moved, every second gone, the un-deniable thought of death loomed. Eleanor had to face it, she had a fear of death, and that fear was fast becoming a reality.

Staring out at the illuminated sand dunes, brilliant in the searing sun, she tried to hold back the water seeping from her eyes. Maybe if she focused on something, she would stop. Stop crying, stop thinking, and stop feeling.

There was a black figure, which she was sure was a lone cactus. Waving alone in the surroundings, she decided to head over there. Maybe that meant she was closer to somewhere.

But as she grew closer, the cactus was no longer a cactus. It was a boy, running fast, and she could tell he was riddled with troubles and quite possibly lice.

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