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I'm quite fascinated with the term death. I'm not suicidal or anything. There are just some people out there that really deserve to die. Telling stories is the only way I can get those hurt feelings out.

Submitted:Oct 19, 2012    Reads: 31    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   

I'm running and I can't look back. I have to escape the forest from which I came. I am a sacrifice. It's cold here. Theres snow on the ground in what seems to be the never ending forest. I know I must keep running. Running is all I can do. What am I running from? The hate? The sorrow? Or my life? As the time goes by I get slower and weaker. The forest seems to get bigger, the closer I come to reach the end. I have nothing. I pass by streams and ponds once in a long while. After years and years I see a light. Something tells me not to run to that light but I run for that light anyway because I knew that might be the only one I ever saw. My heart was telling me no but my head was telling me yes. I stopped running...For the first time. I walked slowly into the light held out in front of me. As I got closer the pain was starting to fade. Soon it was gone. The forest. The Trees. The streams. The ponds.

For people who don't get the story: The forest was the world. The ponds and streams were hope. The mysterious force she was running from was the hate, bullying and sorrow in her life. She was running as in, kept moving on. The girl getting weaker day by day were the struggles and pain. And the light....Was death.


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