An Inglorious End
Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2019 6:39 am
((Come on in Croco and do your worst. Let's try to make this quick too, preferably a kill post from yourslef and a death post from myself))
Running.
"Keep going."
Can't stop. They won't stop. Nothing to stop them.
"God. Why isn't this all over?"
She was right. It should have been over long ago. This sort of terror and depravity was normal reserved for once or twice a century, mayhap occurring once or twice a century. After a holocaust and two great wars one would hope that the human race would have been overly saturated, that the chalice of inhumanity and wretchedness had been filled, but it seemed the world had chosen otherwise.
Tired and bereaved, Gail was completely and utterly wore. Her hair was tangled into knots of sweat ad blood, and what little extra weight she carried on her thin frame had been wore off. She was wither and decrepit; her eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and her weak body ached from the added strain. She was lucky to have escaped the slaughter in the hotel, hiding a lurking like some pathetic creature, it was a wonder she had gotten this far.
It seemed to her like those people who had help her get this far had done it all in vain. The sacrifices made to spare the innocent Gail had only prolonged her suffering. She was a survivor, despite the odds, but that had only taken her so far.
After weakly fumbling with the door of a ramshackle house, Gail slumped over into a corner and began to weep desperately to herself. It seemed pathetic even to her, but what else had she to do? If this is what life was, if this was all that she had left, then she could think of nothing better to do.
Nevertheless, her parents' protective nature had imprinted an instinctive fear of pain that shook her to the core; she still feared the dangers to come, though she accepted them readily. She hugged her knees, wiped the tears and dirt from her face and fixed her eyes on the door. She could still run, terror was her fuel, and it was always easy to get a refill.
Gail was never a particularly bright girl. She was clever and logical, but not all that bright. Just as such, she didn't think to try locking the door, nor did she think to check in that was the only entrance to the house. Fear sharpened the wits of others, but most of the time it makes people blind to the things right in front of them.
((That having been posted I just found out an old school friend of mine hung himself... Yeah... Life is peachy.))
Running.
"Keep going."
Can't stop. They won't stop. Nothing to stop them.
"God. Why isn't this all over?"
She was right. It should have been over long ago. This sort of terror and depravity was normal reserved for once or twice a century, mayhap occurring once or twice a century. After a holocaust and two great wars one would hope that the human race would have been overly saturated, that the chalice of inhumanity and wretchedness had been filled, but it seemed the world had chosen otherwise.
Tired and bereaved, Gail was completely and utterly wore. Her hair was tangled into knots of sweat ad blood, and what little extra weight she carried on her thin frame had been wore off. She was wither and decrepit; her eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and her weak body ached from the added strain. She was lucky to have escaped the slaughter in the hotel, hiding a lurking like some pathetic creature, it was a wonder she had gotten this far.
It seemed to her like those people who had help her get this far had done it all in vain. The sacrifices made to spare the innocent Gail had only prolonged her suffering. She was a survivor, despite the odds, but that had only taken her so far.
After weakly fumbling with the door of a ramshackle house, Gail slumped over into a corner and began to weep desperately to herself. It seemed pathetic even to her, but what else had she to do? If this is what life was, if this was all that she had left, then she could think of nothing better to do.
Nevertheless, her parents' protective nature had imprinted an instinctive fear of pain that shook her to the core; she still feared the dangers to come, though she accepted them readily. She hugged her knees, wiped the tears and dirt from her face and fixed her eyes on the door. She could still run, terror was her fuel, and it was always easy to get a refill.
Gail was never a particularly bright girl. She was clever and logical, but not all that bright. Just as such, she didn't think to try locking the door, nor did she think to check in that was the only entrance to the house. Fear sharpened the wits of others, but most of the time it makes people blind to the things right in front of them.
((That having been posted I just found out an old school friend of mine hung himself... Yeah... Life is peachy.))