Author: LittleBloodyButterfly PM
Nick pushed those thoughts out of his head. They weren't important. The only thing was the fact that he was running for his life. Running, running, running. He didn't know where he was going, but his feet were steady as they chose a direction.Rated: Fiction T - English - Suspense/Horror - Words: 654 - Published: 01-17-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2989419
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Nick was running. Running from what? He couldn't remember. Where he was? He didn't know. It might be a cemetery. Actually, it probably is a cemetery. There were stones engraved with names all around him. Did that make it a cemetery? Nick honestly couldn't remember what made a cemetery a cemetery. What is a cemetery?
Nick pushed those thoughts out of his head. They weren't important. The only thing was the fact that he was running for his life. Running, running, running. He didn't know where he was going, but his feet were steady as they chose a direction.
Nick panted for breath, but his lungs wouldn't fill with air. The strange thing was that he didn't feel tired or light-headed. He felt fine. More than fine, actually, great! Only the fear made sense. Only the fear held true meaning.
Nick finally stopped and leaned against a gravestone. He stared at the name.
His name. He was sure of it. That was his name on the gravestone. Why? Why was his name there? He was certainly not dead! He was right there breathing. Nick thought about whatever was chasing him. Was that what placed the gravestone here? To scare him? More importantly, why wasn't he still running?
Nick couldn't explain it. For some reason he lost the will to run. He just wanted to stay there. Why? Nick straightened up, still staring at the gravestone. What was the year on it? When did he die? 2011. This year. What day?
As soon as this all clicked in his brain, Nick started to fall. He fell backward right on the freshly dug dirt. But he didn't stop there. He fell through the ground, and into a coffin.
Nick didn't scream. He didn't do anything. He knew he couldn't get out, so why even bother? He was dying. He knew it. His body was shutting down. Just a few more minutes. He closed his eyes.
Nick opened his eyes. He was running again. Running, running, running. He didn't know what was chasing him, where he was, or where he was going. That didn't matter. Fear was the only thing real. He stopped by a gravestone. Shocked to see his name, he fell. Through the ground and into the coffin. Nick closed his eyes.
Nick opened his eyes again. He was running again. He still didn't know why, but this whole situation seemed oddly familiar. Nick fell into the coffin and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes and the same thing happened. Again, again, again, and again. Finally, on the last time, Nick figured it out. He was reliving his death over and over.
Nick though this was the worst punishment. He was dying over and over. Only now he was aware of it. He couldn't stop himself running or falling. He had to watch himself die, feel himself die, and he couldn't do a thing about it. The only salvation was those few seconds in the coffin. The closest to true death he could get. An eternity of repeating death. Nick closed his eyes and reopened them. And he was running.
Nick had died so many times by the time of a few days later. A little girl in a yellow dress and pigtails was playing in the cemetery. The little girl paused. The gravestone was new. She didn't recognize it. Nickolas Brown? Who was he? She took a few steps backward, scared of the gravestone.
What was that? The little girl swore she just saw a man. But, he wasn't a true man. He was see-through. Transparent. The man fell into the ground. Right in front of the gravestone. The little stared for a few moments, shrugged, and ran off to find her mother.