phenylketonurics
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Joined 6 years ago
phenylketonurics
Posted thirteen pieces
Thinks of IF1 Creep
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Obscured brick walls beaten by red, blue, red, blue strobes whirred past, distancing Azoli from his ability to escape. The hollow bellow of a police siren was briskly taking a crisper edge as the dull roar of a revving engine flavoured it. He knew it was catching up to him. It seemed no matter how many alleyways he veered down, the tailing vehicle graveling after him would follow and gain a closer run.
His heart was beating against his ribcage as the pistons in the chasing car beat against the stiff, brick walls, sounding preordained entrapment. His legs carried him swiftly, virtually flawlessly along the cold hard pavement. But the growing luminance from blue and red flash signals behind him jarred his vision. The environment was patient but teasing his inescapability. He could not get away.
“One more corner,” he coughed pure terror, “This corner might hide me.”
Fatigue was a luxury as utter adrenaline fumed through his blood, the body’s own defence mechanism screaming opposition to death. He steadied his sight on the final alleyway, lit in a distortion of metronomic bursts of red and blue. Finally…
“Turn! Or…”
Dead end. Azoli felt it was a dead end the split second he made the turn. All he could do was turn around and face the vehicle eager to crush him against the brick wall at his back. Nova headlamps, nearly blinding, struck his eyes in an unpleasant but unavoidable way while lights, siren, and wall overwhelmed his senses. But just as the car broke violently into his sight, it stopped—not screeching, not squalling, not jerking—but it stopped to a quiet, clean, foreboding rest. He watched numbly as the driver’s side door opened. A figure emerged but appeared only as a strange silhouette who’s figure argued with the blaring lights. Suddenly, the silhouette cut within inches directly before him and revealed an abnormally tall, cloaked form.
“Are you … gonna kill me?” just escaped from Azoli’s lips without him even realising it.
The harsh white glare from a headlamp to the right of the figure then began moving, stretching vertically and transforming into the glare from a long sword.
“Bring me life,” a voiceless reply echoed.
He remained paralyzed before the unidentified person, managing only to move his eyes to the quickly raised sword.
Striking down as the word “life” reverberated off of the bricked surroundings, darkness consumed him through his shut eyes.
And he woke up.
Well, this is a typical tale of aging, I suppose. Granted the experiences one goes through along the path of maturation are manifested into one of the main characters ("you"!). It's told from the perspective of "me" entirely in past tense. Details, details...
Killing the monster Vague, the story begins with the moment before "you" is sent away for a grave injustice done to "me"--love. During the wait, "me" reflects back on the time spent with "you" until the decision was made to send "you" back. "Me" will either be softend or hardened by the memories of days past with "you" before "it" comes. The problem with "it"? "It" is the city and the city isn't as forgiving as "you".
This is the series in which goes the users daylogs, please keep non-daylogs out of here, and keep daylogs in here. Also, do not edit the title of this, or pieces in it will not be recognised as daylogs, thanks.