Tag Archives: chase

FRIGHT NIGHT

On my way home, I decided to use the shortcut. Nobody sensible uses the shortcut. Just those who are either extremely brave or extremely moronic. The extremes. The shortcut is a dark alley, one so creepy it scared people off even during daytime. But it cuts my journey short by twenty-something minutes, which is the amount of time it takes to walk down the street and turn to continue the journey home. And there was a match I’d surely be late for if I took the long normal road. A really good football match.

I’ll leave you to judge which extreme I fall under. 

I took the shortcut. Halfway through I heard a rustle. I quickened my footsteps and soon was out in the open.

A sigh of sweet relief. I was so happy I made it out the alley safe and sound that it took me a full minute to calm down and notice I wasn’t alone. Someone was following me. Someone from the alley. I started walking faster. It kept up. I started jogging. It did the same, and of course I did the next sensible thing.

I ran like hell.

“Ahhhhhhh! Somebody help me!!!” I could hear a mad cackling sound as the creature chased me down the road, panting heavily and making wet, smacking sounds. I got to the big tipper garage. Bad luck, all the inhabitants had gone to pray. It was abandoned. I kept running. It kept chasing me.

I cut across the garage and came out under a streetlight, my house was just a few feet away. I could make it. I got to the door and pushed it. It was locked. I banged on the door, no one answered. “Where DID EVERYONE GO TO?”

It caught up with me. ‘It’ turned out to be a tall, thin haggard looking fellow with a week old beard and filthy prison clothes. He held a stick in one hand. And now that he had finally caught me, he stopped cackling and looked at me intently. Then licked his lips and took a step towards me.

Images and stories of prison rape flashed in my head and I let out a totally manly whimper.  He took the last few steps separating us with one giant stride and poked me in the chest with the stick. I might have wet myself at that moment. 

He said just one word. “Bloop.” And then he took off down the street, cackling and yelling like a madman.
The next morning, news spread around the neighborhood that the asylum not too far away had lost one of it’s inmates the night before. People were advised to lock their doors and keep their children close by. He did not have a history of violence, but when dealing with the insane, who could tell?

That afternoon, he was caught and the van passed the front of my house on its way back. He was sitting in the back, peeking out through iron bars set at face level when our eyes met. And then he winked.

A CUPFUL OF TROUBLE part 1

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I want you to do me a favour. Please imagine a forest, quiet and serene. Imagine little shrubs and insects working away at the flora. A small pink nose makes its way from a cluster of plants, followed by a small head on which hang long furry ears. A beautiful white rabbit. It catches a whiff of something it certainly doesn’t like and bolts. Something follows in hot pursuit. Forget about them.

Listen to the sounds of nature. Take in the earthy smell of freshly overturned soil. Bask in the warmth of sunbeams as they trace patterns on the forest floor. Listens to the chirps and croaks, the sights and sounds of things killing each other. Oh yes, things killing each other, that’s just the cycle of life. Rabbit and wolf. Plant and herbivore. Prey and predator.

Remember that rabbit we mentioned earlier? That would be me. And that wolf?  That would be the homicidal maniac behind me, intent on giving me an intimate introduction to his matchete, as he chases me across the abandoned alley, hooting and cackling with delight. It’s a big lonely place and everyone with sense is shut tight in one room or the other. It is afterall, 3 o’clock in the morning.

How did someone as smart and attractive as myself get into such a predicament like this, you’d ask? Well, honestly I don’t know, I mean, anyone with a brain cell would find me positively adorable so as you might have deduced, Dr. Loony back there might not have all shiny marbles.

It all started when, well it all starts from somewhere, no doubt some torturous childhood suffered by our idiot friend Mr. Hyde which drives him to do crazy, twisted, murderous stuff to people, but for me it started when I had the guts to come back from the dead. 

I was involved in an accident and rushed to the closest hospital which happened to be his. Fate, why?

The attempts to save my life failed and they “lost” me. Dr. Loony had written me off as dead and gone through pains to write me my very own death certificate, beautifully crafted! (I saw it beside me when I woke and took my sweet time to admire the calligraphy) But something happened and I woke up. It would seem my heart just thought “Ah, forget about this dead business, I’ve got stuff to do” and re-started because there is just no other way of describing it. It was quite a shock when D.L (lets just call him that shall we, Dr. Loony is a bit too long a name) came and found me, hale and hearty and very scared of where I was. 

Rather than declaring it a miracle and pampering me like any decent human being would, D.L somehow got it into his head that my return to life was some sort of “mistake” that had to be rectified!

How? You’d ask, I’m sure, since you’re smart and not at all killy (now a valid description of a psychopathic creature like D.L thank you very much) and I’m sure our resident madman would answer you in very much the same way as he answered me- with a smile and a promise to murder you. Of course, you’d take to your heels just as I did, and he would chase you the same way he’s chasing me right now, with a sharp machete he got from God-only-knows-where, cackling like a demented ghost all the while just exactly the way he is doing, right now!

Flying down the alley on the wings of the wind, I made a sharp turn as it came to an abrupt end and I burst out and into a wide street, cursing all the while my poorly made decision to resurrect in the wee hours of the day instead of sometime in the day where I’d be able to run and hide in the midst of people and the presence of witnesses would no doubt ruin the possibilities of me getting hacked to death with a machete. 

Feet going pitter-patter against the sidewalk, I made my way rapidly to the bus stop. There it was, a little distance away, and the trusty lamp was on, providing an island of light in the ocean of darkness around it. I was sure to find someone there, I thought, if I would ever find help at this time, it had to be here. But I got to the bus stop, and it was… empty.

I chanced a look behind me. In retrospect I think it wasn’t one of my smartest decisions, as I saw dear D.L had closed the gap a little. Honestly the yelp I made wasn’t so high pitched, and it was totally manly, and not at all like the sound made by a scared little girl.

But the subsequent fall was totally messy, with flailing arms and legs and clutching at empty air. I hit the ground, hard, and turned to my back only to see that my time was up. 

Sir Madman lifted his machete and yelled something I could not hear, probably something about how I was about to be ‘rectified’ and something else spilled light around him. He was a silhouette against a bright white background, and like our friend the rabbit, I was frozen to the spot. I watched as the machete got as high as it would, then began its downward arc, the few seconds required for the deed to be done stretching into what seemed like minutes as time slowed down…