[Short Story]

⚠️Gore⚠️

I stumble desperately through the solitary corridor. Wet, warm blood dripping from just about every inch of my body. I was being chased, by something. Someone.

Every shaky breath I took felt like my last as my blood spilled across the marble hallway in random assortments, surely leading whoever had stabbed me to my location. It all happened too fast for me to recall. Whoever it was, they had planned for this, they made sure to wear a mask, a black mask covering everything but their lifeless gray eyes and their knife was sharp and hot enough to cut through me like butter. Was the person a mercenary, sent here to assassinate me? A psychopath who mistakes me for an enemy they must get revenge on? Or maybe just a serial killer, out for the blood of innocents?

Whatever the buff figures motive. I could hear its footsteps getting closer, taste the coppery smell of their machete, hear the horrid grunts of anticipation that left its mouth as the figure rapidly began to catch up to me. At this point, I could tell it was over. My legs were a minute away from giving away and my innards refused to stay inside any longer. . .

I could barely stumble towards the only door that led to what would be my escape. A door that was definitely too far away.

“What do you want from me?!”

I barely manage to spit out in a meaningless attempt at reasoning. No response.

“Please!”

No response.

I’d definitely got my answer. Whoever this was? They were in it for the thrill of the kill - a force of nature that’d be my final memory. I wonder what my family: my daughter, wife and friends will say at my funeral. What the verdict will be, if my body will remain for the police to assess… it didn’t matter, it never would. I would never know.

Regardless of my thoughts regarding the inevitable, I push through, picking up my pace. Holding my stomach that had been almost split open, as the leather boots of my aggressor rush faster towards me, but I don’t make it before I collapse, quickly massacring any hope of survival. The Killer dragging me to the ground as if I weighed nothing.

This was it, it was all over. The masculine

figure climbs on top of me as I push and squirm to no avail, sticking the knife through my stomach again. A cough of blood spilling out of my mouth onto his mask causing him to blink a little but that doesn’t stop him.

He pushes the knife through me, again. And again. . . And again. Each jolt of pain spilling my guts just a little more. Painting the sharp knife the rouge red of my blood, I attempt a scream for help but all that comes out is an animalistic gurgle in the form of jumbled words. My final words. . .

[Words: 501]

[Written on Sunday 14th July, 2024]

[BY jevarni Grant]