Running from It

Sarah took one last deep breath before breaking from the tree line and bolting for the only other cover she could see, a lone blueberry bush standing stoicly in a sea of green grass. She sprinted the twenty-five feet and, like a runner stealing home, dove head first and came to a sliding stop behid her new hiding spot. With her face in the dirt, the smell of freshly clipped lawn trimmings walfting up her small, upturned nose, she cocked her head and listened. She could still hear the noises of breaking twigs and rustling leaves coming from the woods she just escaped. She knew that meant she wasn't seen by It. It was too busy chasing one of her friends to have noticed her.

A shrill scream cut threw the humid July air and was suddenly silenced. Sarah pulled herself up into a frog squat and glanced behind her. "That sounded like Jack," she thought, brushing clippings and tiny pebbles off her dirt stained knees, "It got him."

She sadly shook her head and pictured Jack, his shaggy hair and freckled face frozen with a shocked look. Because that's what happened when It touched you, you froze. Unable to move, not even allowed to scream, you became a statue. One made of flesh and bone, but still a stature, none the less. And then It moved on to find another victim, while you stood there, prone in whatever position you were in when It laid a hand on you.

There wasn't a specific noise that drew Sarah from her thoughts, rather the lack there of. It was hunting and It was hunting her. She knew she had to move, and fast. Slowly peaking over the bush, Sarah scanned her surroundings. To her right, the woods from which she had just emerged. To her left, an expanse of open field with no cover what so ever. But there, straight a head of her current position, was salvation. The big red barn rose from the Earth like a neon sign proclaiming 'Safty over here!' She sighed a breath of relief as she judged the distance to sanctuary. One hundred feet, maybe less, and this would all be over. The snap of a twig made Sarah's head whp towards the darkened woodland. She scanned the edge of the line, but didn't see It. She shuddered as she thought of her blind run between those towering oaks and firs only moments before. The cannopy so thick only the thinnest rays of sun could penatrate. She didn't even know why she had agreed to hide in there to begin with. That had been Stevie's idea. Stevie,with his cockeyed glasses and cow lick, always knew what to do. "But, it's so dark," Sarah had commented when he proposed the idea of the shortcut to the barn.

"Exactly!" Stevie proclaimed with a gap toothed grin, "He won't see us. Plus, with all the stuff on the ground, we can hear him coming and run." Stevie was always so sure of himself.

Sarah had thought for a moment, her right hand rubbing her chin, before replying, "But, if we can hear him, won't he be able to hear us?"

Stevie just shook his head and walked into the trees, followed by Jack, who just shrugged. Sarah had stood there for a second, unsure of what to do. She stole a glance behind her and made up her mind instantly. A distance away she saw It. And It saw her.

Their trek through the dense woods was slow, but steady. The rocky terrain and close growth of the trees made Sarah clastraphobic, as if with every step the great oaks could sense her anxiety and crept closer together in response. Every so often, Stevie, at the head of their little parade, would suddenly stop and raised a closed fist, something all three had seen done in every war movie ever made. Sarah and Jack would come to a silent stop and listen. Sarah could hear the chirp of the jays as they talked among themselves, the rustle of the leaves in the summer breeze and there, that snapping twig. Was it just a busy little grey squirrl gathering his nuts and seeds to hurridly scamper away back to his nest, or was that It, making his way ever closer in his quest to catch them before they could get to the barn just beyond the edge of the woods.

After a minute, Stevie would drop his arm and the three would continue on their trail. When the trio came upon a large fallen tree, rotten with age and covered in bright green moss, Stevie crouched down next to it and motioned the others to join him. He adjusted the black frames on his pudgy face as he hoarsly whispered to his friends. "Just over this," he began, motioning to the dead log they were now hiding beind, "is the end of the woods and the start of Old Man Parson's farm. The barn is RIGHT there."

A sudden thunk, like a stone bouncing off a tree, sounded behind them. Nobody even dared to breath as they scanned the shadows surronding them. Squatting down with her knees to her chest, Sarah felt like a toad in hiding, ready to hop away at the first sight of danger. When nothing emereged from the trees around them Stevie continued, "When I say go, we are gonna just run for it. He has no idea where we are."

With a flash of his signiture sly smile and a pat to push down the cowlick, which sprang back up in pure defience, Stevie turned on his heels and slowly raised himself above the log so he could survey their route out of the darkness of the woods and into the bright open grass field of Old Man Parson. His framed brown eyes had barely crested the long dead trunk when he suddenly sucked in a breath and tried to stagger backwards. He just wasn't quite quick enough. Sarah watched as a dirt covered hand shot out from the other side of their hiding spot and placed it's palm against Stevie's forhead. Sarah could see her friend's limbs stiffen. As he fell sideways, like one of the many trees that now engulfed them that was cut down by a swing of the axe, she watched as It rose up. It laughed and stepped victoriously onto the log, towering above them. With arms spread wide, It lept, landing where Sarah would have been, if she had not sprang up and started running the second It showed himself. Not wanting to go back and with her way foward blocked, she darted sideways and blindly ran between the thick oaks and full grown pines. The pinecones crunched underfoot and needles caught in her long blonde hair as she tried to stay parallel to the tree line. Low growing branches whipped her arms and face, but she didn't care. She just couldn't get caught.

She continued to dart around the trees, unable to really see them untill they were almost on top of her, untill one of her pink sneakers caught on a thick root jutting out of the ground and she stumbled. Her left shoulder slammed one of the many trees around her. She grasped at the scratchy bark so she wouldn't fall face first into the dirt, and ened up hugging the wide trunk. The sap covered pines stuck to her hands and face as she rested there, panting and trying to regain her bearings. She let go of the tree, wiped her sticky hands on her shorts, and listened. She could hear the sounds of a chase not too far off. The crunch of sticks being broken underfoot and years of thick undergrowth being trampled through. Sarah realised it was now or never. With It distracted chasing someone else, this was her chance. Her wild run through the woods had disoriented her, but, with a second to breath and collect herself, she relised the edge of the grove was just a few feet away. The bright sunlight and stunning green of Parson's pasture was a stark contrast to the darkness and shades of green and brown that now enveloped her. She brushed her slightly overgrown bangs from her wide blue eyes and squinted. She could clearly see the barn she was so desperatly trying to get to with nothing stopping her but the openness of the field and the nagging thought of getting nabbed by It. From her hiding spot at the edge of the trees she scanned the field and felt her heart leap when her eyes fell upon the lone blueberry bush. The plump, deep purple fruit dangled from the branches like so many Christmas ortiments. Seconds later, Sarah found herself crouched behind said bush, listening for any sign of being seen. She heard Jack's scream, cut short by the touch of It and then the infinate silence that followed, broken by the occasinal birdsong and the response of it's mate. The sudden snap of a twig made her head jerk back toward the tree line. Seeing nothing between the softly swaying branches, her attention went back to the barn. She knew she could make it. All she had to do was spring up and make a mad dash to freedom. Or, if she stayed low to the ground, she wouldn't have to run and expose herself too much in the open expance of the field. She considered these options for mear seconds before the desicion was made for her.

"It's more fun when you run," It said.

His voice startled her, and she fell onto her bottom. From her position Sarah peered around the shrubbery. It stood there, halfway between her cover and her goal. How It got there without being seen, Sarah didn't know. What she did know was that this was her last chance, the end game. She sprang to her feet and, with a mighty cry, ran straight at It. She saw It's knees bend slightly as It prepared to leap. It's arms hung away from It's body, palms out like a basketball player on the defense. Sarah's hair whipped behind her as she ran full force at her foe. She could feel the hot air as it burned in her chest with every breath. With every step she got closer and closer to It, who stood like a magic troll guarding his bridge. She could see the crack of a smile play across It's face and the reconition of victory flash in It's dark eyes. Still, she ran head long at It. It stood it's ground, conquest only a few feet away and moving in fast. It shifted it's weight to the balls of it's feet in anticipation of the catch he was about to make. With Sarah a mear arm's leangth away It darted foward, hand extended, ready to stop her where she stood.

It touched nothing.

Sarah had foresaw It's thoughts and acted accordingly. As It surged foward, Sarah planted her rght foot hard and turned. She pivioted her entire body counter clockwise and rolled around It, never making contact. She could hear It breath in sharply, not trying to disguise his surprise at her sudden change. She didn't stop moving, sweat ran down the sides of her rosey face as she barreled towards the barn. Her arms pumped franticly as her quickly tiring legs carried her ever closer to the barn. She could hear It behind her. She didn't dare risk a glance. She didn't have to see It to know he was bigger than her. Faster, too. She didn't need to see to know he was chasing her, and catching up fast. She kept her gaze on the growing barn door. Every time she puts a foot foward, the closed barn doors got bigger, closer.

Twenty five feet away.

Her breath comes out like dragons fire from her burning lungs, but she can't stop. She can end this now, as long as It dosn't touch her before she gets to the barn.

Fifteen feet away.

A stitch starts in her side. She takes a deep pull of air and exhales slowly, trying to ignore the discomfort. She knows It's right behind her, reaching his grubby little hands towards her.

Ten feet away.

She stumbles, her front foot coming down wrong. She dosn't go down, but it cost her distance. It was practicly on top of her by now. She could feel the tips of It's fingers brushing the nape of her neck.

Five feet away.

She reaches out with her hand and leaps. She plants her palm hard against the bright red wooden door and she screams the magic words, the mythical pronouncement used by generations to end It.

"Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!!"

And just like that, Sarah had won.

"Awww man!" Mikey protested, wiping his perpetually dity hands on his shorts, "I almost had you!"

Sarah turned around and smiled brightly at the boy in front of her. "If 'almost' and 'buts' were candy and nuts!" she teased, ploping down on the ground. She leaned against the barn, quickly catching her breath.

Mikey sat down next to her in the grass. Together, they watched the rest of the children emerge from where they had been tagged. Stevie and Jack from the small patch of woods seperating Sarah's yard from Parson's, the O'Connel twins from the other side of the barn, probably caught hiding in Parson's garden, and a few other neighborhood kids from various hiding places. Once the excited chatter of who got tagged when and where and how awesome Sarah's fake out was, had cooled down, Mikey, the oldest of the gang at 10, stood up. "Alright, Sarah won. She's It now." He pointed towards the woods, "Base is Jack's swing set four houses over. Ok, GO!"

At his command, the group scattered like tiny mice, each hoping to find a spot to hide and, hopefully, sneak their way to Jack's back yard without being freeze tagged. All except Sarah. She was already gone. In her place, It slowly stood up, a fiendish smile ear to ear. It turned around to face the wall, it's large eyes covered by it's hands and began to count.

"One Mississippi... Two Mississippi..."