The hunt.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
aphrodite is running, she doesn't know why or who from. she knows this is the hunt, she knows she is hunted.

Submitted: November 19, 2011

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Submitted: November 19, 2011

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A A A


 

The hunt

Prologue

I walk alone. I can feel the cold night air tickling the back of my neck, but It doesn’t affect me like it did earlier, I feel unafraid of the night around me, I feel more afraid of feeling unafraid. Hours of running, sneaking, creeping, loneliness, that creeping feeling on the back of your neck as if a hand is hovering about to get you, but it never does, its lost its novelty I know that they’re going to get me, I don’t know who they are, what they want or why they’re after me, but I just want them to hurry up and get me already. I feel excited, I know it’s wrong but I want to play level up on this sick game, I know I can’t outrun them, but there’s just something about this chase that makes me feel different, I feel strong, I feel weak, I feel big, I feel small, I feel amazing. I know I can’t outrun them, but I love this running, this crazy mentality, feeling so trapped, yet so free.

Background noises 

They say I’m mad. They don’t know what to think of me, my parents look at me and I can see the shame in their eyes, they smile at me and try so hard to pretend they’re proud, but I know what they think, they long for a normal daughter. I go by the name of Aphrodite Moon, my mother cried when I first told her this at the age of 13 when it started. My real name is Margaret Moon, I have curly thick black hair half down my back and heavily lined black- brown eyes. I’m quite short and curvy, I’m not conventionally shaped, I don’t want to be, beauty shines through in the person, not the appearance. I dress in stars and moons and stones, I wear my spirituality across myself and I’m not afraid to show it, people laugh at me but I don’t care, these people have weak aura’s there is no spark to them, just blank clichéd shells, too afraid to step forward and be themselves. I’m 16 now and a week ago I was sectioned for opening a vein down my arm for a spell, they don’t understand me, I drenched plasticine people figures in my blood, I just wanted them to feel my pain, to feel what I feel. They think I’m an extremist, they think I’m mentally unwell, they tried to give me medication but I refused, they wouldn’t let me go, they thought I was a danger to myself and others, I have never harmed anyone else, I don’t perform black magic, at least not often, not to underserving cases. They don’t get witchcraft; they think it’s a mental illness. All through school people used to laugh at me, or give me odd looks, then there were those who tried to help me, they were the worst, looking all sympathetic whilst I was lost in the world of magic. The world doesn’t know me and it never will.

I hate the ward, I pity the people, they’re not ill, just different, I helped them to refuse their medication and be free, they have bigger souls, sadness is part of them, it’s who they are, why do people have to mess with that, more soulless shells.

I couldn’t stand it on the ward so I had to get out. It upset me that I hurt my parents, but I don’t need them, they’re not real people their shells, they feel but they still don’t see the world through different eyes they just see a television viewing of how it should be as they were taught from the age of 5. I won’t pretend to be like them, I am unique I have a spirit, a soul and a true mind. You can’t medicate that away. So I pretended I was making process, I smiled, I faked my medication, I was sugar sweet, until they allowed me to walk alone around the grounds, they thought I was better, better from what, correction they thought I was normal that words stings, because who really is “normal”? I ran. I ran from the hospital entrance I just kept running, my hair wildly flowing in a tangled mass behind me my dress floating in the air. I ran down twisting lanes and busy roads, I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t recognise my surroundings, it was amazing, just running to wherever my legs take me, feeling so free, magical, excited, amazing.

Then I wake up.

I am in some woods, I don’t know. I’m not sure. I don’t understand. I feel different. Its night time and the moon shines down on me from between a clearing in the trees. Its beautiful;. I can feel its gaze. I have a bloody gash on my cheek  the pain feels like a bubbling fizz, leading me forward, making me want to grin, my hands are cold and clean. They look different, they were clutched in the mud, yet sparkling clean with manicure like nails. This wasn’t right, someone had put me here, cut my face and somehow cleaned my hands. I wasn’t afraid. I’m not afraid. I feel alive. I stand up and raise my palms to the moon, I feel like I’m floating, I close my eyes and feel my body lift of the ground I can feel the magic, I open my eyes, I’m still standing in the clearing. Pain hits my face and everything now seems horribly real, I stare at my hands and the fear starts creeping along up my back like a noose at my neck. I know I’m not safe. Why are my hands clean? Why am I here? How did I get that gash? Why wasn’t I afraid? The cold night air tickles me, its bitter, I want to curl up, I want to run away. I stay deathly still, I’m paralysed by fear, I feel helpless and young. The darkness is blinding and wind howls in my ears, like a scream or a shriek, as the wind picks up, the autumn leaves begin to float around my ankles, they fear too. I can hear the sound of something running through the woods. A person, a creature. No. it’s probably a deer or a rabbit. Calm down I tell myself. I squeeze my eyes tight shut and stand for a few minutes, I can hear and feel, I pretend its daytime. I’m going for a walk. Having a lovely time. It almost works, but then I feel an arms] slide around my shoulders slowly. It’s cold and slender. I can’t open my eyes, I don’t want to, I’m scared of what I might see. It’s not real. The hand strokes my face, running a long pointed finger along the line of my gash, collecting blood, they push their finger gently into my mouth, I can taste my blood. This is real. I stand deathly still as the hand strokes and caresses my face and hair, it feels gentle and loving, yet cold and unforgiving, I slowly raise my arm and feel the hand rested on me, its bony and smooth, somehow clean feeling. Beautiful to the touch, a small gash like ridge cut in the middle. The hand is perfectly imperfect. It slowly slides off me and I feel cool smooth lips on my cheek, a small kiss, I can’t move. I feel their lips move to my ear and a cold female voice whispers:

“Start running.”

Suddenly I feel released and my legs begin to run, I open my eyes and see the moon glinting, the woman is nowhere to be seen, I don’t know what's going on, I don’t understand, I feel scared, I feel terrified, I can sense her in the woods and I have terrifying feeling she’s still with me, I hear other footsteps around me, shes not alone. But I can’t think. As I run I reach up to the gash on my face it now feels like a distant scar. Who was she, what did she do to me. I feel compelled, as if this woman has a hold over me. I feel her around me, I see nothing, I hear nothing, I feel everything. I keep running. The trees twist around me, manipulating my mind like twisted figures, the woods seems like a thick dark labrynth and the leaves follow me howling, as I fly through the wind. The howling rushes at my ears as I run, it’s like music, beautiful music, as if the forest is singing to me, so beautiful and pure its almost disturbing. I trip. I land in the mud and leaves, a dull ache buzzes in my arm. The mud taints my porcelain hands. I feel dirty and small. I curl up and cry. I feel like crying, this Is so beautiful, its art. Amazing art, the art of fear. I hear a shout in the distance, no, a chant, I listen closer. It’s her.

“This is the hunt, you have to keep running. This is the hunt, you have to keep running. This is the hunt, you have to keep running. This is the hunt, you have to keep running.”

It was her.

I stumble to my feet and brush of my arms, I feel so much unimaginable fear. I carry on running. I don’t know why, I know this is pointless, I can’t outrun her, she’s all around me. somehow she makes me want to try though, she makes me want to run.

“Aphrodite.”

She calls out. I run on, long hours pass as I run, I never tire, I feel good, I feel different I feel untouched I enjoy the hunt, I love it. She continues to cry my name. I love it, I feel so alive, so excited, so different. I feel like I’m me, this woman, spirit, creature, whatever, knows me, the real me, she can gets in my head, and I love it. I stop running and tone it down to a steady walk. I feel strong. Unafraid.

confidence

I walk alone. I can feel the cold night air tickling the back of my neck, but It doesn’t affect me like it did earlier, I feel unafraid of the night around me, I feel more afraid of feeling unafraid. Hours of running, sneaking, creeping, loneliness, that creeping feeling on the back of your neck as if a hand is hovering about to get you, but it never does, its lost its novelty I know that they’re going to get me, I don’t know who they are, what they want or why they’re after me, but I just want them to hurry up and get me already. I feel excited, I know it’s wrong but I want to play level up on this sick game, I know I can’t outrun them, but there’s just something about this chase that makes me feel different, I feel strong, I feel weak, I feel big, I feel small, I feel amazing. I know I can’t outrun them, but I love this running, this crazy mentality, feeling so trapped, yet so free.

I reach a clearing in the woods. I’m tired I want to see her.

“I’m not afraid.” I cry out.

“No?” I hear her whisper over my shoulder, my breath turns shaky as fear creeps into my every muscle, but I pretend. I want to turn and look at her but something stops me.

“No. I’m excited.”

“I know.”

“Who are you?”

“Kali. I’m just like you, Look at me.” I turn slowly and see the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she has long silky red hair a pale freckled face with piercing blue eyes, she’s tall and slender, and draped in a white sheet, her feet are bare. “I can release you Aphrodite, you don’t belong. Just like me.” her tone is cold, hard, full of mock caring but I can see through her I can see the falseness in her appearance, I look at her a bit closer, at the heat of my gaze her beautiful disguise slowly Falls I shiver briskly as our eyes connect once more. Her skin turns a pasty deadened grey the colour of dead feeling and her piercing blue eyes slant in like a snakes, curling menacingly, her red hair is dowsed in mud and as she turns I realised she was bald at the back revealing painful pink raw flesh. I gasp.

“You died four hours ago Aphrodite.” She says, I shake my head. I feel no remorse, or sadness, just surprise, the new fearless me is the me with nothing to lose. “I saw you running and I followed you, I saw you’re soul and I sought you out, you needed this release.” I shake my head.

“Why did you make me run.. Why did you make me fear…” her voice turns sympathetic.

“So you could learn, you needed this.” I shake my head again.

“No, you had no right! You don’t know me, you had no right.”

“Please you need me, we can be together you’re the same as me, come with me!” I shake my head, her voice turns deadly hard “It’s a lonely eternity Aphrodite.”

“Go away.” I say as tears fell from my eyes. She looks at me menacingly and leans forwards and whispers in my ear.

“Sleep well.” She kisses me on the cheek once more and then turns, running back into the forest, I call ater her, but she’s gone. I wait. I scream. I fall into my own private hell. Then I realise. Eternity. I’ll be alone forever, I’m stuck here, I’m dead. It’s a lonely eternity. All for the sake of the hunt.

Epilogue

Eternity hurts when your alone. I can’t approach people. I can’t speak to anyone. It’s been a year now and I finally understand what kali did. This loneliness is agony. It’s enough to turn anyone bitter, I sit here in my forest and wait just as kali had, I am just like her, now I look forward to my hunt. I might be dead, but I feel more afraid then I ever did, afraid that this is my forever, observing from a distance.


© Copyright 2017 rhiannon belcher. All rights reserved.

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