“It sounded like a thunder bolt hitting the building. Waking me out of my daily stupor of typing away at reports on my computer screen, sitting alone in my office. My whole body froze for an instant. Unconsciously brought back to my childhood of my parents fighting over who will do the dishes, or how the cat should have been fed already, or that my father needs to switch to the day shift at his work. Loud, banging, anger.

As my heart subsided, another feeling, as if insidiously put there slowly rose up. Making my chest tight and breathing shallow. And just as a child, I wanted to see. To catch even a glimpse of the terror. Slowly opening up the door I told myself , ‘There is nothing to worry about… Its in the middle of the day… Something must have fallen and that was the noise… they are doing renovations after all.’

As I took a step outside, into the hallway, something did not feel right. Usually the lights automatically turned on from the motion detector, but they remained off. Only the translucent light from my own office fled into the hallway, giving it a foggy glow into the blackness. When I took a step forward, that is when I heard it.

It was a fallow hissing sound, followed by what seemed to be a chuckle. I had never heard anything like it before. I called out to my co-worker Mary. Then Tom. No reply. At this point my heart began to pound. So much so I could feel my shirt moving with the beat heart trying to escape my chest. Perhaps it was keeping it in, even with the slightest of pressure on my chest.

Some blackish figure skittered on the floor. Its faint clicks of what may have been toes or claws pattered as it scraped its nails on the cheap yellow linoleum flooring. It seemed to laugh as it did so, then fell silent. The whole building was silent, as if everyone had left and didn’t tell me it was time to leave. Now that insidious feeling made itself known. I was alone. Alone with something that drew pleasure from my fear.

“Hello!” I managed to shout out. Trying my best to sound confident, like I was not scared of the thing in the darkness. As if I woke it, a pair of eyes opened in the black at the end of the hallway. They seemed to glow even though its entire body was shapeless due to the dark. Red, shimmering eyes, slanted in the middle like a cat’s eyes. Ungodly eyes staring right back at me. I regretted saying anything.

My whole body wanted to run. To pick up my feet and run the opposite way. But I froze. I couldn’t move. It was as if the carpet had grown around my feet, keeping them planted in one spot. The thing moved closer. Its eyes stayed open, staring me down like a hunter coming for a prey it caught in its trap. Knowing I cannot leave.

As it came closer it appeared to be even closer to the ground. Only a few feet tall. Each step making it grow smaller and smaller. I could hear the scrapping again. Rhythmically growing louder and louder as it drew near.

Now I could see some of its body. Reptilian in nature with downy white hair, as if trying to look as human as it could. Only its hands were twice as large as its body, garnishing razor sharp black claws that seemed to glisten in the dark. It held up one hand and beckoned me to come to it. All the while just staring at me.

It smiled as it stopped and looked at me. Its frozen prey. It bared what would have been ivory white teeth if not bleached in blood and pieces of torn flesh from what I assume was Mary and Tom. It opened its mouth and the same hiss I heard earlier came out. Only now it was accompanied by a thought in my mind that was not my own. I thought that I should take a step forward. To come to it. That the only way out was to let it in and take me.

That’s when you showed up. The siren you blared when you got here, must have startled it. It turned its head, breaking its stare on me. It was then I found that I could move my feet. I turned and went back into my office. Closed and locked the door. That’s when I picked up my chair and ran at the window. The noise of the breaking glass was the best thing I’ve heard in my life. It meant I could run away from that thing.”

***

“Now hold on just a minute. You expect me to believe that some little monster is the one that killed all your co-workers? And for some reason you were spared? That you are the only one left and that you had nothing to do with all of them being dead.”

“Well didn’t you find it?” Panic filled the void between reason and salvation. “That dammed thing? It must still be in there! You have to find it, before it kills again.”

“Jack!” the detective called to the orderly. “Take this lunatic back to his room. I think he’s had enough excitement telling tall-tales for today.”

“NO! You have to believe me, it’s still out there!”

“Of course it is Mr. Henderson” He said with a condescending tone. “And don’t you worry we’ll catch him and Bigfoot too. Because we all know you are totally innocent.”

As Mr. Henderson was brought back into his ill-lit room and injected with some chemical he was told would help him relax, he heard a noise. A scampering in the ducts in his ceiling. A running with a malevolent purpose. To take him back to the precipice of unending darkness, where madness rules, and fear is the sustenance on what they feed.

"I'm in a strange time in my life", I said.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, man. I'm so angry all the time. Everyone and everything bothers me and I don't know why. Even just walking down the street I get pissed off. No one cares about anyone. It's all these conceited people that just care about themselves and you can see it all the time. No one moves out of the way for you when you're on the sidewalk, people throw their garbage on the street making the dirty streets even filthier, everyone's so involved in their own bullshit phones, checking their social media as if anyone really gives a shit. I went on a date a few days ago and the whole time I tried to talk to this girl she's half listening while scrolling through instagram and texting other people. Hey, I get it maybe we're not on the same page but lets be honest with eachother. If we're not having a good time together lets just call it a day and go home. I think she just wanted free coffee, honestly. And you know what? All my friends they're off doing important things with their lives, getting promotions, moving into houses, getting married and I can barely afford to get more than a few microwavable pizzas. I don't even know what I want to do for the rest of my life, you know? Like how am I supposed to decide what I want to do for the next 50 years, if I even make it that far, if it takes me two hours to pick a movie I want to watch on netlfix and by then I don't even feel like watching a movie anymore, you know what I mean? I mean, jesus, it doesn't make any sense. And fuck is my job borin-

"Sir, that'll be $97.50. Do you want paper or plastic?", said the wide eyed grocery store cashier worker

"Oh yeah, I'll take paper, thanks. I love that they opened a Trader Joe's so close to my place! Anyways how's your day been, mam?

As the path split in the old dirt road, the runner wept and did as she was told. She knew this day was coming. Still, she kept on running. Her hiding place was very close. 40 or 50 yards at most. She could see the birch tree, finally. Like a ball player sliding into home, she extended her arm with a groan. Her gun, now pointed at him. She whispered “You will never force me to run again.” He lay dead in the leaves. For the first time in years, she could breath.

By: Benz

©8-6-19

Thud-Thud.

My feet crunch the gravel

Thud-Thud.

My heart pounds in my chest

Thud-Thud.

My lungs grasp for air

Thud-Thud.

No need for rest

I ran and she laughed

“How could that be fun”

I laughed along too

rubbing blisters on one

of my toes which was bleeding

from the miles which were

painful and long,

yet none could deter

me from taking, no one,

Not even her

Thud-Thud.

My feet are now sore

Thud-Thud.

My heart quickens its pace

Thud-Thud

My lungs have a harder time running this race

Thud-Thud.

She loved to walk

and walk yes she did

I’d slow down my pace

we’d match strides, it is

a bit silly, I know, to lessen your speed

but she’d smile and I’d tell

Myself it was worth it, her love was all I need

Thud-Thud.

My feet are now bleeding.

Thud-Thud.

My heart pumps blood to my ears.

Thud-Thud.

My lungs and their gasps are all that I hear.

Thud-Thud.

I told her I’d like to run a race

and I swear, you should’ve seen the look on her face

a laugh and a smile took the place

of her grimace that had recently filled up that space

Thud-Thud.

I can’t feel my feet

Thud-Thud.

My chest is numb

Thud-Thud.

My breathes come in wheezes

Thud-Thud.

I see the finish line, it’s almost done

I won! I won!

I crossed the finish line

and looked around to see

if that friend, who was mine

was waiting for me

at the end of my race

but I see no one

not even her

no smile on her face

--

My feet stopped their pounding of gravel beneath

--

My heart ached as a muscle that’s hurt

--

My lungs let out sighs that escaped as I breathed

--

All of this lasted until the day I saw her

walking besides a new, slower girl

shortening her paces and looking to see,

if the girl was smiling, the one who wasn’t me.

Thud-Thud.

My feet still have blisters and continue to bleed

Thud-Thud.

My heart loves to run, or so says my heartbeats

Thud-Thud.

My lungs catch my breath sometimes when I see

Thud-Thud.

Myself in the mirror, with a smile on me.

I hate the pain on Anna’s face. It distorts her features. Her tears escape to the ground. A tiny puddle of false hopes and broken promises. She's probably thinking about *him*. “Don't worry, I took care of him. He won't hurt you, again.” Her skin is like velvet under my touch.

I don't blame her for running; I must have startled her. A person can only be hurt so many times before they begin to expect it. It's natural to trust less and question more. “Stop,” I yell. She must not be able to hear me. We tumble to the ground as I try to wrap her up and comfort her.

Her words hurt, but I know that I'm not what she says. It’s my job to make her feel better—to release her from the pain he put her through. I will not fail—not again.

She bites at my hand as I hold the rag over her nose. Her nails claw at my face.

I think I see pieces of my skin underneath the chipped black nail polish. A drop of my blood falls on her skin. “Trust me. It won't hurt anymore…” I pull her up into my arms. “Sleep, my love. You're safe now. You'll stay with me.”

#thriller #microfiction #flashfiction

I died. I watched myself die and all that I could do was stare.

I tried running to catch myself but I couldn't. I tried shouting, asking for help but I couldn't. I tried stopping myself but I couldn't. You see, that's what depression does to you. You want it to stop but you can't. You care, but not enough. Neither did I.

So, I watched myself die.

I screamed, but my voice never reached you. Perhaps, you didn't want to listen to it. When I told you that I'm going through depression, you pointed at my head and told me 'There's nothing called depression. It's all here .' If you told me that you had stomach cancer, would it make sense if I pointed at your stomach and said ' There is nothing like cancer. It is all here .' We are in the 21st century. Why don't you take depression for real? Depression does exist.

When tears were continuously running from my eyes, I was not in a state of going around or meeting anyone or talking. Only I knew what it felt like. I had to suffer this and no one would help me. People questioned me if something happened, why wasn't I talking or why I always put on a serious facade. So I had to smile and speak something.

No one knows about that mental pain. No one likes to talk about it. And yes, everyone hated me for my negativity. I was tired of trusting people. Everyone left me. I had to deal with this on my own. It was very hard, so hard to stick on and stand strong but at last, everything went in vain.

I was so fed up with all that broken heart and people giving me false assurances. I didn't talk to anyone because I assumed that something was wrong with me. I ran away from my friends. I knew that I didn't have the energy for all of this. Finally, I had disappointed everyone so much, that they couldn't stand me anymore.

At last, when I had no one next to me, depression became my best friend. She gave me a shoulder to lean on. If you hadn't mocked at my pain and laughed at my tears, I wouldn't have let depression become mine.

Depression in me gave rise to a walking corpse. Earlier, I used to write, laugh and sing but now, I cry, sleep and scream. We were best friends but eventually, I fell for her. She never left me alone. She told me that facing our problems and working through them would eventually kill us.

She lived deep inside me. She started stitching my torn heart to make sure it doesn't tear again. She came to meet me every night and pushed me into horrible memories. She threw me into a never-ending black hole. She left me with no hopes and ambitions. She brought out the artist in me. I started craving beautiful pictures on my hand. She gave rise to an actress in me. I started faking smiles and acted like nothing could consume me.

She made me cry for no reason. She had taken immense control over me. She screamed at me every day and started telling me how terrible I was. She made me replay every mistake I had ever made. She humiliated me on a daily basis. She made it impossible for me to be happy.

I decided that I did not want her to be a part of my life again. I hated her and I hated myself for ever letting her in my head and loving her. I needed help. I wanted to break up with her. The only way I could break up was by giving her my life and I did it. I died. Peacefully.

If you had helped me when I came up to you, if you had heard me and tried to comfort the crying face hiding behind a pretty smile, I wouldn't have died.

Just a request: Everyone undergoes a phase of depression at one point or the other. When your dear ones come to you, comfort them or be ready to let them run away, forever. I did not run away because I was afraid. I ran away because the only way to escape fear was to trample it within my feet. This was my way of escaping it. Don't allow others to run away, like the way I did.

#depression #contest #love #life #pain #article #depressionkills #competition #breakup #suicide #sad #cry

Memories fade into the steady rhythm of my run.

Up and down dusty mountain paths. Through fields. Past elk and hundreds of trees.

Near highways and houses that seem a world away, when they are really just a stone’s throw.

When I run, it’s a different place. A different reality. To me, more real than the place I found myself not a year ago.

Injured. Broken. Entire life turned upside down. Like a dream I have never woken from.

I used to run, climb and jump like it was nothing. For the sheer love of moving. Then suddenly, I couldn’t move at all. Suddenly, I had to work my way back from zero. Frist, a wobbly stand. Then, take a step. Then, stumble down the hall with a walker.

But that was then. Now, I can run, again.

There is still pain. Still healing. Still scars and memories that haunt me at night.

Running is not as easy as it once was. But I train hard, with dreams of my first full marathon.

Dreams of a triumphant comeback. Twice as far as I have ever gone, before.

I tell myself that’s what I run for.

But really, the training is an anchor. In a world that still seems a dream, it is familiar. Real. Visceral.

I run because it drowns out the memory of my own screams. Because it grounds me.

The smell of dusty earth, a reminder that world is still the same.

The elk glancing up at my presence, a reminder that I still exist.

The aching legs, a reminder that my body is still working, even if not as well as before.

I forget my worries, my sorrows, my interrupted career, and just run.

Again, and again. Farther and faster.

Until the day I stand at the starting line of a full marathon. Fall into the practiced rhythm as the buzzer sounds.

This time, my steps pound over asphalt. People and cars replace elk and trees.

But the run is still the same. Ignore the crowd. Ignore the noise. Keep the pace I practiced over a million footfalls.

Last year, I could barely stand. Now I’m here.

Not the fastest, not the slowest. Just another face in the crowd,

But I know what I overcame to get here, and that motivates me to keep going.

I push through hours of single-minded focus, to pass the finish line.

Victorious.

I came back from it all. Fought thorough all the pain and doubt to cross that line.

But as my exhaustion wears off and my breath steadies, I find I don’t feel any different.

What I imagined as a great comeback, fizzles into another name in the crowd.

I feel little elation or sense of victory.

I’d wanted to prove to myself that I was better. Back to what I used to be.

But I will never go back. Things will always be harder than they once were.

The marathon, full of people and cheering and electrolyte drinks, it ended up just being another run. Another moment with only myself and the steady beat.

Maybe I didn’t run for the marathon. For a comeback or recognition or a record of my time.

Maybe I ran just because I still could.

Maybe, that’s enough.

Tears run down the face of Day

Pastel tints her bed, she lays

Eve’ yields thoughts of yesterdays

Wound on reels, remembrance plays

Waves flood cavern’s hollow core

Streams flow to forevermore

Bound to half a heart that soars

Where Heaven meets Horizon’s shore

Pouring out, the quill, heart stirs

Black and blue ink, I rehearse

Life, before death spoke its curse

Shade between each line of verse

Unraveled thoughts of threads entwined

Cobalt stained with merlot wine

Garnet weeps from harvest’s vine

Day, she sleeps, her pulse flatlines

Replay,

d

n

i

w

e

r

run

O

E U

\

M • T

/

I O

T F

~

your light

slips slowly

from my mind.

vapors of your

mist, divine;

~

Sun, setting on a soul, enshrined

’Morrow’s dreams in moonlight’s shade

Hope holds on as memories fade

Running toward the Dawn’s new day

When sunlight, tears, evaporates

Mud, it drags her down, she claws and gasps, the filth enters her mouth, drowns her lungs.

Still she kicks, screams, reaches for the sun above her. She wants to escape, to lie, to pretend she isn’t dying.

They threw her into the waters, disgusting and full of trash. It was where all unwanted things are tossed. They gave her the power though, the power to escape.

She merely had to reach the surface, to stay afloat, to fight her way achingly to the shoreline.

If she can, then she is free.

From the pain, the judgement, the life of a slave.

Too long did she pretend it was normal, too long she never ventured forth her questions.

When she finally found her voice, they threw stones, whipped her and in the end, they did the worst thing imaginable.

They left her alone, they left her to die.

In the blinding sun she is dragged into muck so foul, and a smell of rot and decay surrounds her.

Soon her limbs will cease moving, her eyes will glaze over. Flies will pick at her rotting flesh.

Like so many thrown away, she will be a floating corpse.

Such is life in those who are uncaring, unfeeling. For those who run from all the pain.

She doesn’t have the strength, she loses her battle, the layers of garbage wraps around her body, pulling her further beneath the dirty waters. She is dead.

It lasts only a moment, a terrifying moment of unfeeling lifeless existence.

An arm splashes through the dirty water, a warm hand encircles her wrist, she has one last chance. She blinks.

Her hand grabs hold, and she kicks once more, it’s painful, each muscle burns. She must escape, she must get away from the grime. She is pulled to the surface; she opens her mouth coughing and hacks up sludge. The person who pulled her up is gone, but a feeling a warmth stays on her skin, a light touch of life.

She has new energy, she swims towards the shore, somehow it is closer than it was before.

Her hands find the sand and rocks. Bleeding, covered in filth, she drags herself onto land.

Her breath coming in heaving gasps, barely living, but she has escaped the darkest depts of death. It starts to rain.

Cool freshwater rolls across her tender flesh, washing away the blood, the slime. Tears burn her eyes, she pushes herself up, on shaking legs she takes her first steps on new land.

She isn’t whole, not yet, she isn’t clean, but the rain continues to cleanse her. Each step brings her further away from the dark waters behind her, from a past so vile it killed her.

The whispers of the people who harmed her are far away, the bruises are fading, and her body was being washed in a purifying shower. She smiles, the first of many. She had to run, to run far away. To live, she escaped.

Her small steps change, from timid to strong leaps, soon she is running freely, laughing and alive.

You can’t always escape the darkness in life, but you can run towards the light. So, she will keep on running, she isn’t ready to die.

I’m that word

that doesn’t rhyme

One syllable

too short for time

My meter keeps

a different beat

As though

I shuffle two left feet

I’m a lyric

without song

Writing rhythm;

righting wrong

My misplaced, comma

gives me, pause

My “clever” quotes

are without cause

I’m ALL CAPS

shouting in bold

Mazzmyrrheyes;

long name, I’m told

Silver apples

in italics

Leaves of gold

left out

of context