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Amongst a world of hassle and noise – the buzzing atmosphere of a busy centre, the unsystematic chat, the inhospitable faces – he walks placidly, cutting through the crowd like a knife, he walks faster and faster. No one knows where he aims to go, yet no one cares. He hides in the security of his hooded jacket, distorting his face.
A cool breeze surrounds him on this warm, humid day. His face twice as cold, despite the distortion. Desperately he looks over his shoulder, as if to suggest he was being followed…
The footsteps get louder as the pace increases in turn. Was he being followed?
The clouds swarm over the metropolis, as the light becomes dark, and the streets become emptier… yet the man still walks, faster and faster, he walks.
The hooded man appears to be pursued, as the footsteps double, and they get faster respectively. He looks over his shoulder again… nothing.
Down an alley off the side street, his cold appearance was enough to persuade any man to cross the path. His eyes reflect the moonlight, and they appear to glow, silently, gleefully.
The man starts into a slow jog… He Must be followed by someone… But no-one with any sense would avoid this man…
Footsteps, just footsteps. No breathing, no vehicles, no birds… nothing just footsteps…
And amidst the silence, a scream is produced… It echoes through the epty skies, down the empty alleyway, across the empty town. A rather feminine scream of compassion. With stops almost as rapidly as it had appeared…
The hooded man is seen leaving the area… his black jacket smothered in colours of crimson and cerise. His footsteps can still be heard… as he holds onto a woman’s handbag, and a mobile phone… he runs... he runs away… into the darkness.
A cool breeze surrounds him on this warm, humid day. His face twice as cold, despite the distortion. Desperately he looks over his shoulder, as if to suggest he was being followed…
The footsteps get louder as the pace increases in turn. Was he being followed?
The clouds swarm over the metropolis, as the light becomes dark, and the streets become emptier… yet the man still walks, faster and faster, he walks.
The hooded man appears to be pursued, as the footsteps double, and they get faster respectively. He looks over his shoulder again… nothing.
Down an alley off the side street, his cold appearance was enough to persuade any man to cross the path. His eyes reflect the moonlight, and they appear to glow, silently, gleefully.
The man starts into a slow jog… He Must be followed by someone… But no-one with any sense would avoid this man…
Footsteps, just footsteps. No breathing, no vehicles, no birds… nothing just footsteps…
And amidst the silence, a scream is produced… It echoes through the epty skies, down the empty alleyway, across the empty town. A rather feminine scream of compassion. With stops almost as rapidly as it had appeared…
The hooded man is seen leaving the area… his black jacket smothered in colours of crimson and cerise. His footsteps can still be heard… as he holds onto a woman’s handbag, and a mobile phone… he runs... he runs away… into the darkness.
Tears - said the child with water running down his cheek.
I always put twists in my storie but that was great! Really didn't se it coming! Congrats.
Nice twist. I had a brief flutter with goosebumps there.
The twisted mugger returns. So all the time he was checking to see if he was being followed so he could pull off his crime unseen. And the footsteps were the victim's. Good.
Amongst a world of hassle and noise – the buzzing atmosphere of a busy centre, the unsystematic chat, the inhospitable faces – he walks placidly, cutting through the crowd like a knife, he walks faster and faster. No one knows where he aims to go, yet no one cares. He hides in the security of his hooded jacket, distorting his face.
A cool breeze surrounds him on this warm, humid day. His face twice as cold, despite the distortion. Desperately he looks over his shoulder, as if to suggest he was being followed…
The footsteps get louder as the pace increases in turn. Was he being followed?
The clouds swarm over the metropolis, as the light becomes dark, and the streets become emptier… yet the man still walks, faster and faster, he walks.
The hooded man appears to be pursued, as the footsteps double, and they get faster respectively. He looks over his shoulder again… nothing.
Down an alley off the side street, his cold appearance was enough to persuade any man to cross the path. His eyes reflect the moonlight, and they appear to glow, silently, gleefully.
The man starts into a slow jog… He Must be followed by someone… But no-one with any sense would avoid this man…
Footsteps, just footsteps. No breathing, no vehicles, no birds… nothing just footsteps…
And amidst the silence, a scream is produced… It echoes through the epty skies, down the empty alleyway, across the empty town. A rather feminine scream of compassion. With stops almost as rapidly as it had appeared…
The hooded man is seen leaving the area… his black jacket smothered in colours of crimson and cerise. His footsteps can still be heard… as he holds onto a woman’s handbag, and a mobile phone… he runs... he runs away… into the darkness.
A cool breeze surrounds him on this warm, humid day. His face twice as cold, despite the distortion. Desperately he looks over his shoulder, as if to suggest he was being followed…
The footsteps get louder as the pace increases in turn. Was he being followed?
The clouds swarm over the metropolis, as the light becomes dark, and the streets become emptier… yet the man still walks, faster and faster, he walks.
The hooded man appears to be pursued, as the footsteps double, and they get faster respectively. He looks over his shoulder again… nothing.
Down an alley off the side street, his cold appearance was enough to persuade any man to cross the path. His eyes reflect the moonlight, and they appear to glow, silently, gleefully.
The man starts into a slow jog… He Must be followed by someone… But no-one with any sense would avoid this man…
Footsteps, just footsteps. No breathing, no vehicles, no birds… nothing just footsteps…
And amidst the silence, a scream is produced… It echoes through the epty skies, down the empty alleyway, across the empty town. A rather feminine scream of compassion. With stops almost as rapidly as it had appeared…
The hooded man is seen leaving the area… his black jacket smothered in colours of crimson and cerise. His footsteps can still be heard… as he holds onto a woman’s handbag, and a mobile phone… he runs... he runs away… into the darkness.