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Chosen - Chapter 1Chapter 1
Running. That was all I could do. Why couldn't I run fast enough? I could just feel the hot breath of that beast which chased me. What was that beast? I had no clue. All I knew that that I had to run. The beast growled, the sound chilling me to the core. Suddenly, my feet were swiped out from under me. Landing on the ground with a rather painful groan, I pushed off from my stomach and turned to face the beast. Why did I turn? I blame adrenaline. What I came face to face was wasn't a beast at all. Well... It was still a beast, but looked so human. The dark, tattered, wings jutting from its back said otherwise along with two horns that stood proudly from its- his long and black hair. Those details only were able to catch my eye for a moment before I was drawn to the two bright green eyes that adorned this strange beast's face.
It took me a while, but I noticed he was not attacking me. Why were you chasing me then?!, I mentally screamed at this creature. My eyes were locked o
Savior -1-Shaun squeezed his eyes shut listening to the static buzz of the radio and counting down, in his mind, the seconds until the broadcast was played.
"Citizens of the United States of America, the military has been dispatched along with the special agents that have been training in anticipation of this day. We are coming for you. Any sign of S.O.S.; three of a thing, rocks, cars, anything, and they will investigate. Until we find you stay safe. Stay inside during night. They don't like water so surround yourself with it. Dig a moat if you have to and wait for us. We are coming for you." Static...
Shaun closed his mind, cradling the last sentence of the man's crackly speech like a living thing. He let the lull of static soothe his thoughts and, eventually, nodded off to sleep.
Morning came like a sudden sickness and Shaun tried to block it out as one might with more sleep but the sun had woken his groggy brain to the new day. He shoved himself from the da
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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