This past week I went through a brief spasm of writing prompts. :) Pinterest was fantastic.
I decided to post the shortest one I wrote (post above).
Countdown
A green glow emanates from my watch. I press start.
TEN
I’m the last one left.
We ran for years. We denied them the right to our blood by hiding in cement walls that dripped with moisture; or clutching the ground under an acrid truck (most of them were rigged).
NINE
I am the silent one. I am the deadly one with the black knives and the one with the lack of sympathy. I spared no one. They will not spare me.
EIGHT
It began with a war from years ago; a war which has never ended for me. Every night I dream of drowning. I wake up to phantom blood running down my face.
SEVEN
I had a team once. They weren’t my friends, but the occasional word that might have been a joke gave us the feeling of belonging. They’re all gone.
SIX
Now it’s just me. Running is the last thing in my life that’s consistent. I think if I were to stop, I would die.
FIVE
I’ve killed people. It’s something I’m not ashamed to admit. I could have been an assassin with my clean kills and dark eyes.
FOUR
They would not spare me for my crimes. That’s what I am counting on.
THREE
I brush my hair back and tense before releasing a choked breath. I prepare myself mentally with the same words I’ve always used to focus and relax. I clutch a small explosive rigged to set off on contact. “Ready when you are.” I murmur absently.
TWO
“Come out of there and put your hands up!” Thudding feet and clicking guns arrange themselves.
“Here we go.” I grin and launch out to meet them, my hands held high. I will have myself one last run. Running is all I know. Without it I will die.
My watch beeps frantically and my hands thrust down. The guns come up.
ONE
I am not running. I am flying.
ZERO
