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Title: I am it

by Samantha | in writing, fiction

Breathe, Remember to breathe' and remember to run. The pounding of my feet is competing with the pumping of my heart. I have to get away. I must get away. I can almost feel its hot breath on the back of my neck, and I can almost feel the chill of its clawed hand as it brushes the side of my face. I can almost feel death. I must never stop running; I don't want to be caught. The corridor begins to spin as a dark hand grabs the back of my blouse and knocks me to the floor. I can taste the mess of blood and tears spilling into the cracks of my open mouth. I can't even scream. Helpless and petrified I twist my shaking head towards the attacker. You're it. The words echo soundlessly as I am engulfed by the creature towering over me' silence slices through the paper thin walls of the corridor and through my lifeless body. There I was' and then I was gone. I am it.

She was laughing. I suppose she found her dare funny. And it was, it you are into that sort of thing. She wasn't scare; she had no reason to be. Derelict boarding schools are the perfect for dare, and that's why they had come; just to play games. She hadn't been this close to the school before. Never had the skeletal building seemed attractive, it was always there but never thought about, a stranger lingering in the background. Strange. It sums up the mysterious air clinging to the murky, damp strewn walls. Perfect for dares. And not just any dares, really, really good dares.
Wearing her smile like a mask, she walked hurriedly down the path, almost as if there was something slithering behind her and biting at her skinny ankles. The awry mass of vines and roots twisted and contorted, gradually engulfing the weather beaten path, the spindly tendrils reaching out and clinging on to her converses. She was scared. Through all the smiles and laughs, she was scared. And she should have been.
Taking a final look at the mess of teenagers and alcohol on the street, she squeezed herself through the crevice in the moss speckled wall, her eyes closed, as if she was scared of what she might see. Scared of what she couldn't see. As her feet smacked the corridor floor, she could feel something small and slippery crawling up her neck. Dozens of pinching feet swarmed over her back, piercing the flesh and causing droplets of fresh blood to amalgamate with the steady trickle of sweat which was dampening her shirt. She couldn't move. A paralysing fear grasped her as he twisted and turned; her breath quickening and her eyes growing so wide that they look like green, glassy marbles. Her screams echoed throughout the corridor, but only the creature could hear. And they were hungry. They fed off her fear, growing in size and number like a swarm of mosquitoes. She was going to die.
Stabbing the beast of fear within her, she started to run. Her breathing resonating through the corridor, and the thump, thump of her heart pounding against the decrepit walls; she ran. The maze of corridors meshed into one winding tunnel, spiralling further and further into the abandoned boarding school; further and further away from the laughing teenagers outside. No matter how fast she ran, she could not shake them off her. Before she could scream, a crawling mass of writhing creature filled her open mouth and a trickle of tiny, pinching things scratched their way down her throat. Breathe. She has to remember to breathe. And run, she must remember to run'
Enough. I can't sit her and watch them destroy her. I let out a blood-curdling scream and dig my nails into her shoulder, ripping of a layer of skin to reveal a squirming mass of creatures wallowing in a pool of veins and muscles. The stench of fresh blood grasps me and drags me around to face her. The tendrils of death are tugging at her spidery hair; I am doing her a favour. I engulf her. Sucking in her life. Eating her soul. Her body starts to convulse, shaking and jerking until a hiss oozes out her lifeless lips; I am it. Free. No longer do I have to slink along the dark, childless halls, no longer do I have to crawl through the corridors devoid of sound. No longer do I have to live. Death has released me and I welcome it. Closing my eyes, now I can sleep. Forever.
Leavings its mangled body sprawled on the floor, I grip hold of death and I know I will never let go.

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A piece of english coursework!

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