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Rated: 13+ · Other · Emotional · #1721044
This is a story about a girl who moves into a town looking for peace and finds the undead.
  Running. Running through woods. Crunchy leaves beneath my feet. Sticks, thorns that stuck up in my feet. I yelp out in small pain, but the adrenaline keeps me from stopping. I have to keep going. I have to run. It's darker now, the sky is almost black. The sun is setting. I can see the peaceful colors in the sky through the trees and their autumn colored leaves.
        If I can just get to the cabin. If I can just reach the end of the forest and make it to the cabin, everything won't be in vain. If I can just make it there. Running as fast as I can, I can hear my heart pumping in my ears. I can feel the blood running through my veins as I run as fast as my legs can carry making my muscles strain to make longer strides. I have to make it to the cabin. I have to make it. My breath is coming out in short breaths. My lungs are aching for air, but I need to make it. The cabin won't be far now. I look up at the sky it's darker now,  touches of grey in the sky. I curse silently as I press on. My clothes are ripped from running. My eyes are frantically searching for an end to the dark, unforgiving forest. My muscles are aching too much. I know I won't be able to make it past this forest, but I gotta try. Everyone is counting on me. I hear it then, even though it's a whisper of a sound, I know it instantly. Ignoring my pain, I push my muscles faster. It's life or death now. I have to make it. I have to make it or die. Suddenly, arms wrapped around me and I'm yanked back, the air purely knocked out of my lungs. A sharp blade is pressed to my throat, heat caressing my neck sending chills down my spine. I freeze, my back completely stiff.
      "Where do you think your going?" A voice asks me, dark and misterious and smooth as silk. It sends wave after wave of goosebumbs over my skin. I can't think to speak. I can't even breathe. I'm trying to think despertally, think of a way out of this.
      "Poor, Poor, Poor Juliet. Allways looking for her love. Allways missing the chance to find her Romeo. Even more tragic is the end to this little story. Death," The stranger that held me seemed to take a moment to pause, as if smileing at the thought.
      "But Don't worry, your end won't be so . . . quick," He murrmered breatheing in my ear. Suddenly he moved in a blinding fast pace and I was slung to the ground. Then The knife was down at my throat.
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