Date unknown

I ran. And of course he caught me.

It was such a stupid ill-conceived plan, it's no wonder it didn't work.

It was daylight, I could see the sun streaming weakly through the roof, I'm pretty sure it was morning.

I was standing in that hideous cavern, the corpses of his victims on the ceiling, I didn't dare look up, I had enough trouble keeping my courage. It was also completely silent, that was a good sign, he was probably out tormenting someone else.

I stepped towards the drain pipe, it was the only way out that I knew, the way I had stupidly fell in. I walked cautiously towards it peering up at the sunlight. It was set at slight angle so I could probably wrench myself out of it.

I loved the sunlight and fresh air that flowed through it, if I could I would have stayed there for hours. But there was no time for that. I began to strain my ears listening for the sound of the BEATNGU truck or any other telltale noises. I heard nothing. I began to put my hands inside the pipe and stuck my head in, trying to get a grip on it.

A rustling noise, that should have been my first clue. Instantly I'm out of there looking behind me, in the horror movies the monster is always behind you. I try to wipe the look of guilt off my face. There's nobody, just his gruesome work, and his desk with the self-stylized portrait carved into it.

Uneasily I return to the pipe, I hate this, I hate this feeling. I knew, I felt that he was there, why didn't I listen to that intuition?

Once again I peer into the pipe, my senses hyper alert. A rustle again. I stop, but don't turn around, trying to think. It was probably one of the ubiquitous crows. I am slightly reassured. I manage to pull my whole body into the pipe, trying to haul myself up, if I had more time I could-the rustling noise gets louder, and it won't stop.

Crows, crows, I desperately think as I get out and look-

UP why didn't I think of it before? He's there on the ceiling. Of course.

He's a freaky looking thing, he clings to his "art" like a spider, glaring down at me, he looks pissed.

I shouldn't have ran, I should have collapsed on the floor and kissed his feet and begged for forgiveness, but the monster leering down at me was way too much. Instantly I'm scrabbling up that pipe again. Trying to get away from HIM.

I can hear is wings unfolding, the release, the drop, he's coming towards me. I'm close to panic.

It's funny how your mind reacts in an emergency. It's almost like my mind googled the words "help how do I get out quickly?" A flash appears inside my mind I can see it clearly, a few seconds of footage from…a horror movie.

The Ring 2, bad flick, not all that scary, but then again I now LIVE in a horror movie. But that's not what I notice, Naomi Watts is in a well, creepy girl is following her, time to get out. Do what they do.

Left foot, right hand, wedge my body, push against the narrow walls and try to pull myself out. I don't know how far I've gotten but it seems like I'm going fast. Being chased by the Creeper will light a fire under your ass.

But of course it's totally futile. He's much faster, and much stronger than I am, and he's probably climbed this pipe a thousand times. He grabs my foot and pulls me down, I scream and try to haul myself up again, but I can't pull our combined weight, he yanks again. I'm being dragged down; my hands were clinging to the walls so tightly the force of the Creepers pull ripped the fingernails out of my fingers.

And so he retrieved me kicking and screaming and wailing and pleading from the drain pipe. I could have fought more but he simply held me still close to him, sniffing once more. Now I'm just trying to push away. He's angry, I'm not looking at his skewering gaze but his muscles are tense and anger just seems to vibrate off of him.

Please no, please don't kill me is all I can babble and think repeatedly. He pulls away slightly and holds up my hand and brings it up to his face. Strangely I don't fear him eating it; all I could think of are those strange hand kisses you see in classic movies. Enchante' mademoiselle.

But of course that doesn't happen; instead he takes one of my bloody fingers and licks it, savoring it. More disgusted than anything I try to yank my hand away. But of course he doesn't let go, he continues to lick and suck the blood off my ripped fingernails. My disgust and horror is too much. I think I just zoned out for a while.

That's all that, I remember, happened. I swear.

Two days later October 6

I've snapped out my weepy mood. I've been foolishly angry. It's not wise to pick a fight with a creature capable of ripping you apart. If he touches me I push him, any time his face hovers too close I snarl at him. He seems sourly amused by it. Once he was uncomfortably close and for the first time I spoke directly to him in a non-pleading way.

"Don't touch me." I snapped.

He blinks at my defiance, and I fought the urge to smirk, not used to that are you?

He settles down on his haunches and grins that awful grin. My smile fades. A hand reaches out and I flinch, but he doesn't touch me.

I look to see a single clawed finger hovering an inch from my face and I stare uncertainly at him, he simply continues grinning. I draw back but the finger simply hovers closer, but he has yet to make contact with me. He continues grinning.

What the hell??? I think. Now I am confused with a hint of anxiety. What kind of game is he playing?

Then it hits me, game. He's playing a game?!

Of course my brothers must have done it to me a thousand times. He might as well be chanting, "I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you!"

He's teasing me.

And I feel slightly better; my mouth opens in surprise and even curves at such an odd thought. His grin widens.

8

He mostly ignored me but after smelling my abdomen he reached out and cupped my chin and licked my face fiercely…

I was too tired to resist.

9

I had to leave the church for the first time in days. I just couldn't stay inside any longer. The horror of the dead people lessens somewhat with time but I DON'T like being around them. I still feel ill in the mornings but now I don't think I'm dying. He has not attempted to eat me.

But the thing that I crave most is fresh air and sunlight. My stupid escape attempt only whets my appetite. I need to get out of here. The question is how. I'm inexorably drawn to the drain pipe like a moth to a flame. I can smell the sun and wind and earth above the smell of blood, embalming fluid and the Creeper himself.

He is here preoccupied with satisfying his ravenous appetite. I deliberately try to ignore his presence, and he's not too concerned with me either. I block out the sounds of him stuffing something bloody into his craw.

My sense of smell is so much improved I can smell the outside world, and I need to be there. I hear him growl as soon as my hand touches the metal rim of the pipe. I don't turn around, deliberately provoking his ire.

I continue hanging around the pipe, he growls again when I don't cower away and he grabs my arm, digging into my flesh. Now he's in my face hissing threateningly. For some reason my face is blank and my mind is calm. I'm pretty sure he's not going to kill me at this point, but I'm less sure about his other intentions.

"Please," I decided to plead, "let me out."

He makes a sound that might be a sarcastic snort but how can I tell? He pulls me gently away. I dig in my heels and adopt a wheedling tone I hate, "Please, for just a few minutes? I won't run I swear. Please."

He stops and seems to consider I whine some more, "Please I need to be outside."

He relents, I got him. He begins to lead me away from the pipe and forcefully opens a rusty pair of doors. He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, as if to say "after you."

I feel uneasy having him behind me, I can't see him, but I realize he probably wants to keep me in his sight. He pulls on his battered coat and pulls the hat low over his face. The upstairs of the church is quiet and eerie. Pews are chipped and knocked from their neat rows, probably by the Creeper himself. A huge agonized Christ gapes in silent distress on the far wall, while a more diminutive Virgin gazes serenely down at the snake she's crushing with her right foot.

Normally such objects in their familiarity alone would have been comforting, but here in the presence of the Creeper they just seem twisted and wrong. Fortunately I don't have time to gaze at my deities because the monster is busily forcing open the doors. They open with a noisy creaking protest; he calmly looks around and gestures casually for me to follow him. I try not to look like I'm going to run, but I can't help but be eager. I'm leaving this place. I set one foot across the threshold and he grabs me.

Instantly horror floods me, has he changed his mind? Or is it some kind of sick joke he's pulling? He gives me a growl, a warning, and releases me. The message was clear: don't run. For someone who doesn't talk he can get a point across. I shiver at the thought of him catching me again.

But I'm too happy to be totally affected by his threats. I'm outside! It's not that sunny, it's kinda cloudy actually but the air is not stale or filled with blood and screams. It was Eden, a scruffy lonely kind of Eden but it was a thousand times better than the church basement. I tried to move away from the creepy old church, I wanted to move towards the road more, fantasies of a cop seeing me and rescuing me weren't far from my mind, but the Creeper following closely behind me quashed that. I ambled through the thick trees, some of them starting to lose their leaves; I began to realize it really was Fall. The wind had a slight chill to it.

I felt uneasy with him behind me. Couldn't he give me more space? He seemed morose, glumly following me only out of a sense of duty. I stop and rest in a patch of and dandelions. I resist the childish urge to pick one and blow on it. Maybe I can make a wish. I wish I never stopped at that gastation. I close my eyes and blink back tears

Why did I stop there? Why didn't I leave and get the hell out of this area? Why couldn't I save Elsa's life?

"Oh God he killed Elsa", I moaned the full horror of that was coming back, I couldn't mourn for her then, I was too worried about myself, but now I could think about her and her horrible death. He killed the person who was trying to help me. I understood, he would kill any one who stood in his way.

After a few minutes I was allowed to relieve myself in the bushes, provided he could still see my head from that distance then he pulled me back. I did a quick unobtrusive scan and saw a sign: East 9 Highway Pertwilla County. I didn't see my car but the BEATNGU truck was hid in the bushes. And I now knew the other way out of the church.

The basement was fresh hell after the light and wind from outside. It was all I could do just to collapse in my corner and cry again. I cried for poor Elsa Daniels. I cried for myself.

I was normal. I was once boring for Christ's sake.

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A/N: Ha-HA red that review made me blush, twice. Thanks.

Gia: You know my homework is all half-assed anyway.

I updated fairly quickly because I have like 50 pages of this stuff written but I need to separate it into chapters and polish it up. Chapter 4 was already pretty much done, in my opinion.

Also I've been puzzled by small quantity of reviews. I was about to issue a statement along the lines of: REVIEW GODDAMIT OR I'LL COME AFTER YOU. I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! I HAVE A NEW MACHETE! I was wondering why only redplanetes and the friend I had bullied into reading we're leaving some, especially when it said I had 180-some views. Then um…I realized anonymous comments had been disabled. So please feel free. If my fic sucks then please say so, I still have really crappy aim with my new machete.