First dates and forests.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
I actually have no idea what this is about.
I just found it in my documents folder, under the title 'running.'
From a brief skim, it tells of a girls first date with a devil, and how abruptly the danger of this is realised.

Submitted: March 27, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 27, 2012



I ran as fast as I could. It wouldn’t matter though, I’d be caught eventually. My bare feet flew over the forest debris, miraculously avoiding being cut. Trees surrounded me as I darted through them, seeing only by the full moon’s light, filtered down through layers of leaves. I stopped, but my heart kept going, as I put my back against a tree by instinct. I tried to slow my breathing, but it crept toward hyperventilation regardless. I pressed my head against the rough bark of the tree, scraping my cheek as I tried to flatten myself out of sight. I focused on what I could hear, fighting to keep my eyes closed and concentrate. The wind whispered through the trees and swept across the forest floor, picking up leaves and gently tossing them over my feet. Insomniac birds cried softly, ruffling their feathers up against the chill, but I could swear even their eyes were on me. Paranoia mixed with hysteria, sending fear running up my spine, and freeing butterflies in my stomach. They weren’t coming yet. But they would.
And soon.

I’d stood in front of my dresser, holding my hair back from my face. I tilted my head to examine the style from every angle before deeming it worthy and securing it with a purple hair tie. I sighed, glancing toward the clock on my bedside table and seeing that my date was just ten minutes from late. Typical, really. I bit my lip and turned back to my elaborate dressing table, studying my reflection within its white and gold frame. My makeup was minimal, my hair non-committal and my outfit screamed nonchalance, but my body language was anything but. I was tense and nervous, but unsure why. I frowned against my skittish pulse and shallow breathing and forced myself to chill out. It was just a first date. I’d been on plenty, and I’d probably be on plenty more if this guy took any longer. I tugged my purple singlet down over the black jeans I’d suspended on my hips with a silver studded belt. One last once over in the mirror and I was sure my casual was casual enough. I heard voices downstairs and realised I’d panicked over my date’s arrival. A slow smile spread over my face as I slipped my feet in the black flats I’d placed by my door. I threw a look over my shoulder to ensure my room was as femininely neat as its décor suggested, and pulled the door shut behind me. As I danced down the hall, grabbing a coat off the line of hooks near the stairs I never questioned who I’d allowed to be welcomed into our home. I didn’t realise he might be more than the shallow, good looking boy I suspected him to be. I flew down the stairs, and into the conversation being shared by my housemate and my guest, and with a hesitant smile and a polite nod, so began my first date with the devil.

I’m exaggerating really. He isn’t the devil; apparently I’m not considered enough of a problem for him yet. He’s more of an employee. Like a pimply kid, flipping burgers and upsizing fries - his boss isn’t even the assistant manager to the Big Guy. But still, I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley. No, I just invited him into my living room and went on a damn date with the guy who was hunting me down. He moved here at the start of the year, and ingratiated himself into my senior class at school. It’d taken him until graduation was rearing its head before he secured a date with me. Since my breakup with boyfriend of four years Todd, early in January, I haven’t been easy to tie down. By goodness some have tried though. I always find something wrong with them though. It’s been months, but none of them hold my hand right, or make me feel what I was used to. This night was going to be different, though. This guy would make me forget that I still cry myself to sleep, and torture myself with “what if’s” when I wake up a few hours later. I should have had a best friend to slap me out of such stupid behaviour, but I didn’t. I just had friends who I went to the mall with. So my rebounds continued, but I was right about one thing. This guy would make me forget all of that. He’d make me forget my name, and everything else that wasn’t him or his. I remember our first meeting as if it were yesterday. He was so kind and shy. I knew it was only a matter of time before his number was flashing on my caller ID straight away, but as shallow as that sounds, it wasn’t. It was just something I felt. Anyway, enough of the sappy ‘beginning of the love story’ recounts; it’s true. I am in love with him. And even though he may be assigned to kill me and serve my head on a silver platter, he’s pretty in love with me too. That’s why I’m running. According to him, we are designed to be with each other, it was written into The Plan, years before I was a twinkle in Daddy’s eye, but the Devil had no time for such things, and, well, this kid was in way too deep to deny The Man. Basically, love sucks.

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