Heidi couldn’t see her attacker, couldn’t make out the shifting form following her. Tangible shadow sped after her, tracking her white crèam colored nudity through the endless, door-less hallway. Bare feet plodded against slime-encrusted floor, coating between toes with the sticky substance. Adrenaline raced with fear, pumping her body with the needed rush of speed/strength.
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Within this place of worship it rested, currently. Sleeping for millennia, since the passing of its creator. Once arguably the greatest achievement of mankind against the beasts in the world was now rusting away in an attic, in a building on the far edge of the wrong side. Underneath it, few days’ back, a fight had occurred resulting in the owner’s death. Rumblings in the decrepit home had caused the place to partially collapse, letting in brief glimpses of sun through a blackened sky.
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“Where are you? I’ll find you bitch!” his voice echoed through the decayed domicile. “I know every piece of this house. You can’t hide for long.”
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“Could you sign my book?” the young thing in front of him asked. Chris thought he had heard her name as Tasha. Once spotting him she had jumped up from a table, off to the side of the library, where it had looked like she was in utter awe of some boy her own age. “I'm like your biggest fan Mr. Price.”
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Rockford, home of families. Years beforehand it had been deemed the most pleasant place in the United States, a place for growing businesses and those seeking somewhere other than large scale city life to raise their children. No orphanages were run in the town for it wasn’t necessary. Wasn’t needed. Parents took care of their children, raised them, loved them and adored who they would become. No abortion clinics, no hate crimes, loud music would blare from teenagers cars and the old folks would simply say, “That’s kids for ya.”
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Refusing to move, the table kept teasing Chris to get off his ass and try something new. Sitting there, attempting to alter the position of his writing desk with the power of his own mind, futility setting in, he kept trying to let his mind wander back to his newest creation. Writing for so damned long he had encountered many different issues within his mind, many contrary occurrences popping up in his stories. Yet, this time, it was by far the worse thing that could be imaginable.
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