Pursuit

         His footsteps fell lightly on the hardened, dry soil. One by one, frantically skipping across the surface of the ground and vaulting his body rapidly from the path and fighting against the wind to propel him forwards. His large, panicked strides were met in the middle as either foot tapped the floor, so lightly accompanying his running that it seemed almost that he was not touching the ground, as though he were a puppet being pulled quickly along the floor by his master, not in control of his actions.

         With a blast of wind from his left, leaves flooded out of the dark congregation of trees, floating threateningly around him and circling the air as he waved his arms to protect his face, still refusing to slow. His filthy right sneaker splashed through a shallow puddle that reflected the soft moonlight as droplets of water showered in all directions from his foot, scattered like his conscious thoughts.

         Without dropping his pace, he glanced nervously over his shoulder and with a horrified gasp, saw what he feared- it still followed him, the creature that he was fleeing was catching him up, closing the distance between them now in the open. He swung his heavy head back in front of him and allowed his long flowing hair to retreat from across his forehead and face and back over his shoulders, trailing behind him like a sail. He screwed up his eyes in panic and pain, and fought against the tiredness that was encompassing him, starting with his lower limbs. As his legs continued to pump back and forth, propelling him forward, they screamed in agony, acidic tenseness coiling around his muscles and contracting painfully, begging him to stop, to give in and collapse to the floor and accept his fate. But he refused to give in.

         Lifting a hand to his head to sweep an unruly strand of hair from his face, he wiped away the temptation to stop, dismissed his body’s needs in favour of his safety. Not so much valuing his pitiful life as fearing for it, he refused to lie down and die; he had to run. His footsteps were growing heavier, his weary legs failing to lift his feet as far, or to flick them so elegantly from the floor. His chest heaved, his lungs withering and wailing out wheezy screams of lethargy and pathetic failure. His side ached, as did all of his body. Sweat oozed from his forehead, thicker than his usual sweat and leaked into his eyes, burning corrosively while his eyes streamed tears not only of pain but panic, as his fate caught up closer and closer behind him.

         The road ahead grew narrower and dimmer. The forest on either side seeped its way onto the path, infecting the hardened foot-worn soil and creeping inward. Branches snaked across the roof of the path, clouding out the dim light of the moon and casting threatening shadows about his feet. The stars were no longer visible, and the forest continually grew thicker and darker, closing in over him. Despairing now, he turned around to see that his pursuer had gained yet even more ground, and he could feel its breath on his neck. Chilling and warm simultaneously, it erupted from the follower’s gaping black nostrils and sent hot gales down his shirt and through his thick mane of hair. He yelped pathetically, stretching his arms out in front of him as though reaching for the safety of the end of the path, imaginary as it might be- as there was no escaping his pursuer.

         Glancing down, he noticed that the wriggling roots of the surrounding trees were now winding their way into the centre of the path. He lifted his foot carefully as one reached for him, just nearly snagging himself on it. The powerful follower simply smashed its way through the root as though it were made of paper. Shards flew out in all directions, splinters of wood erupting into the air with the speed and power of it.

         His thoughts left himself and his predicament temporarily, as he realised that his family were still out in the open. They were still back there in the dark, and it would return for them once he was dead. It never ceased, it never gave in. Unless they could find a safe refuge from the beast it would hunt them down- relentlessly hungering for their demises. It wanted them dead, and in time it would get its wish.

         He spun his head the third time, feeling a sense of dread descend from his head and infecting his entire body; resting in his gut as his eyes informed him of what he next saw. He looked directly into the face of his attacker, fear entirely consuming him. Before he could turn back around, his foot snagged on another twisting branch, causing him to fall heavily. The attacker reacted instantly, and before his head hit the floor, his torso was being pounded by heavy hooves. Thick and powerful with the texture and strength of metal, the sleek hooves thudded down on him, blood seeping from his mouth as he bled internally.

         The demonic horse raised its majestic head and swung it down, knocking the man over onto his front. Rearing up threateningly, accompanied with a violent flash of lightening, the pitch-black horse thundered down, its front hooves in the direction of his head. Before he could even react the creature descended in his direction and amid a gargled attempt at a scream, the hooves struck their target angrily and his flailing hands went limp and lifeless. With a triumphant snort, the demonic black horse shifted its head, raising it up to the moon. Blood dripped from its crushing hooves and glinted in the soft light. Silhouetted against a bright white light that now shone from behind it, its raised up onto its hind legs and neighed, turning into the direction from which the quickly fading light had shone. As the path returned to darkness, the stallion marched off to seek out its next target…