She was running. Faster. Faster. Faster. She dodged trees, ran through bushes, and leaped over logs. She could hear footsteps behind her. Faint, as if they were a spirit’s shoes barely brushing the ground. She pushed ahead, running into the forest. The dog tag around her neck bounced with every step, the chain whipping her neck as her short hair flew in her eyes. She closed her eyes, running on the path she had followed as a child so many years ago. Memories flashed before her eyes, events that had passed mere moments ago. Her notecard being stapled to the desk suddenly, with no action on her part. Her textbook falling to the floor at an unexpected gust of wind.The chickens scattering suddenly as a shadow loomed over her. She opened her eyes, tears stinging her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Not again. Not again. Not again. 

She tripped. She fell, as if in slow motion, tumbling to the ground. Her jeans ripped, her shirt tore, her gum fell from her mouth, her mind broke. She landed at the bottom of a tree, and she leaned against its trunk, trying to catch her breath as she held her side, pain radiating from it like a bloody aura. The shadow. It was back again. Blocking the sun, hiding its warm rays and leaving her in a cold, desolate realm again. Again…. 

A gunshot sounded, and she swung her head to the side. Nothing. Another to her right. Still nothing. A bird sounded above her, like a siren. She looked up, to see a man clad in black, a small knife strapped to his side. 

“No, go away! I don’t want to talk to you again. You can’t have me this time. It’s not my time.” 

“No…” He said slowly, sarcasm dripping from his words like venom. “No, it’s not your time.” 

“You can’t do this! I have too much to do! You can’t make me die.” He drew his knife out, examining the shining blade as it gleamed in the cold air.

“Oh, sweetheart. Death is who I am.” 

“But—”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s who I am.” He stared at her, the blade flashing towards her, and her sight fell to darkness. Into shadows. Into death.

 

 

Biography: What is art? Art, to me, is any type of self-expression. To me, music is art, drawing is art, writing is art, performance is art. So, I suppose you could say I enjoy all the arts. I enjoy trying a wide variety of visual arts as well as writing poetry and fiction, and I dabble in performance every once in a while. I love to tell stories through all mediums of art. I was inspired by a close friend of mine who is an incredible artist in all the categories I listed, and I wanted to be more like them, so I worked hard, and here I am, at ECA, in Incite‘s Literary Magazine.