Organization 13 stories
#3
he was running, against the wind and against the odds. Someone was chasing him, someone wanted him dead. "get back here you little piece of scum!" they shoulted. she wielded a weapon; various knifes she had gotten from her kitchen, all with matching handles. she threw one, aiming at her enemy, the blued eyes man running infront of her, her own son. she misses, hitting the wall next to him. "you are not leaving me! Not like you're faher! Get the fuck back here!" she yelled. She threw another, slashing him in the arm, but not stopping him. He grasp the wound, turning the corner. He pears at the gash, feeling the blood spilling out of it. He winces as the cool wind hits it. "when will this be over?" he asks. He stares at the empty sky, not seeing a single cloud or star. Then, the wall next to him turned an iry black with blue swirls revolving around it. He looked to his mother who was coming close with her hand stretched back with a knife in it. She throws it with perfect aim and speed. If he was hit, he was all over. He races to the cloud, stepping within it slightly. The knife however made it to his back, pushing him infurther. For a slit second, e felt that pain, death. Right in the spinal cord, fizzing his thoughts, his movement. But when it was gone, he awoke in a room, a space of dark. No sounds, no images to fix his eyes on, no wind flying past him. He felt free, from pain, from her. The knife was gone and on the floor, no blood on it at all. He picked it up, looking at it. The memories came shooting back, seeing the look on she facfe as she threw it. he expected tears to form in his eyes, or at least a fit of anger surging though his body, but nothing. He was empty, like this room. He tosses the knife, starring at his hands. "what am i?" he asked.