Hiya! I know I really seem like I'm not doing any writing right now (although I AM . . . working on new rough drafts with Kit-chan), but I just couldn't bring myself to write the next chapter of Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni: Ungranted Wish right now. And, after a while, I felt like my descriptive writing was getting rusty (after rushing through rough drafts), so I decided to write . . . this? I have no idea what I was doing in this, but I just wrote it anyway. And, I'm desperately searching for feedback. So, yeah. Enjoy!
A Horror Film
"It's better to have a thousand enemies outside of the tent than one inside the tent."
— Arabic Proverb
It was like any normal horror film, but it was always more frightening when one was stuck in the middle of it.
Darkness tinted everything black. I could barely make out the designs that were traced across the walls as I blurred by. The only light that shone through the broken glass windows was the moon, which gave off the amount of illumination of a single, distant lantern. I no longer knew whether I was inside or outside. I would find myself feeling like the air was fresher and colder or mustier and thicker without plowing through doors. At times, the moon was hiding behind buildings instead of walls; at times, the moon was shining off of windows instead of through them.
However these were trivial things. It wasn't as concrete as the fact behind me.
A gender-confused redhead man dashed after me. He wore semi-formal brown attire, which, much to my dismay, didn't hinder his movements at all. A notable, red chainsaw thundered in his hands, spraying droplets and flakes of blood like a sick sprinkler. His red hair and crimson overcoat flapped behind him like a flag of war. Green gem-like eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure like a pair of flashlights from his face. Squeals of excitement and pleasure screeched off his tongue – a voice that was popped up several octaves.
Despite that a blood-stained chainsaw would catch anyone's eye first, nothing of those qualities stole my attention quite like another trait of his. An angular sneer split his face: an inhumane Cheshire smile. Triangular fangs lined his gums, glowing like the moon so that one might see it miles away and still feel its eerie, haunting effects.
The clicks of his heels echoed against the stone floor, making sounds of a metronome through the roar of the chainsaw and with the pattering of my own feet. Although my harsh breathing rasped through my head louder than even the sputters of the chainsaw, I could always hear his footsteps like the ticking of a clock in an empty room. Always. They screamed out, taunting and tormenting me that my attacker was behind me no matter where I went.
I would go right, and he would simply laugh and follow. I would go left, and he would turn with me. I would slam through doors, and he would cut them down like thin sheets of paper. I would dodge his presence, and he would find me again. I would scramble down staircases, and he would leap over the steps. No matter where I went, he was always behind me.
Continuing to run, I became tired, exhausted. Explosives seemed to pound inside my chest. Although my legs cried out, sore, they had become mechanical and proceeded to hit the ground. Sweat trailed around my eyes and nose and down my fingers, making my skin white and clammy in the currently cold air. Even through all this, the white clouds of my breath told me to continue.
All I wanted was to get away — away from the horrific being behind me. I had long since forgotten why this chase started, but it was the "here and now." Nothing could cover up the present. And the present was that I was fleeing for my life.
Unfortunately, my tired feet fumbled over each other, sending me sliding forward with my palms grating against the hard ground. I squeaked in fear as I felt the chainsaw-wielding man upon me. Trying to make an escape before he attacked, I looked back and attempted to rush back up to my feet.
I finally got a good look at my assailant. He appeared extraordinarily familiar. His toothy grin still haunted my mind. Another's blood created red trails around his memorable corn-kernel-shaped face, flowing down like his damp, red locks. His eyes were not simply jade green jewels, but brilliant green lined with yellow; they were radiant starbursts with black-hole centers, just like the ones I saw on a day-to-day basis. The pair of gems hid behind gaudy red, prescription glasses, which had white skulls hanging by a silver chain. They were the same pair of glasses that I sometimes found lying around. And I realized who he exactly was.
He was my best friend.
So, we all know who the attacker is (have you seen the summary? If not, I suggest you do it right now). But, who's the narrator?
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review! They make all aspiring writers happy, ecstatic, whatever word you want to use. Please do at least leave a sentence or two!