The Watch – Part 169:

So far, there’s nothing. No one and no anything that can be considered out of the ordinary. I’m walking down the road, passed wrecked cars, overturned bins, pieces of shattered class, and huge chunks of rubble laid scattered about the ground. This was truly an apocalyptic sight for saw eyes. I was half expecting at least something to jump out at me the moment I enter the city, but instead all I’m hearing is silence, and that is terrifying in itself, if I’m honest. The thick tension in the air could be cut with a knife. My heart is beating fast, my breathing has naturally increased to help my body get the oxygen it needs to help me remain as calm as possible, a statement that cannot be any more contradictory.

I know where the key is; it’s sitting in the door’s keyhole. I also know where they door is as well; it’s straight ahead. Surely, the closer I get with each step I take the more danger I’ll be in; the possibility of something attacking me from any direction has to increase the closer I get to achieving victory. I just have to be prepared for when that will be, and not knowing when is the worst.

I feel as if there are so many eyes watching me, studying my every move, predicting and waiting where they believe I will go next. I’ve walked through the woods at night before when I was younger and that scared the heck out of me, and I believed that I would never feel the same way ever again. I am currently experiencing that feeling on a magnitude so strong that my brain is jumping at shadows, hearing the echoes of the ground crunching beneath my feet as if someone or something was behind me, I am struggling to keep myself from panicking. I know that if I do give in to panic, then everything will be lost. I would be standing stock still, unable to move. I have to keep going with the hope that I can get to the door without an incident, even though I know that will never happen.

I have never wanted the use of my watch more than now. How simple it would be if I did. I would be out of here in a matter of seconds, maybe even less. The thought of knowing that I’m getting closer and closer with each step that I take towards my friends is what is keeping me going, keeping the panic at bay for as long as possible, keeping my faith that I can make it, and as well as that thought, knowing that once this is all over and all three of us can go home and sit down on the sofa with all of this behind us is what is allowing me to…

I hear a noise. Was it another echo from my walking or something moving in the distance? I don’t want to stop and listen. I carry on walking, keeping my ears peeled as much as possibly, my eyes, too. I try and decrease the heaviness in my walking just in case it was me who created that noise.

There it goes again. It sounds as if something’s scraping along the ground, or as if something is scraping something across the ground, or if something is pushing or pulling something across the ground. I hear it for a third time. It defiantly sounds as if something is scraping across the ground. I really don’t want to investigate. That would be the worst idea in the world. The best thing to do is to keep walking forward. Slowly. Very slowly. The last thing I want to do is grab its attention by my heavy walking.

I hear it once more, allowing me to pinpoint where it’s coming from. My eyes snap towards the small, abandoned building just in front of me. Its doors had that look about them as if someone had kicked their way through. The scraping sound happens for a fifth time, now even closer. The tension was now so thick, I felt as if I was actually in my own horror film. I’ve never felt this scared. What am I doing standing in the middle of the open. Wait… Standing? When did I stop walking? I can’t stand still; I have to keep moving. Damn my curiosity. No, don’t blame my curiosity, blame my brains natural ability to shut down when too scared. I’m looking directly into the hallway where the scraping sound is coming from and, as expected, I see nothing but darkness. I had better get away from here as quickly as possible. I lift my extremely heavy foot up and prepare to walk forward. Should I run? No, walking is the best way to keep myself hidden. My foot is still hanging in the air. I’m struggling to bring it down as I’m worried its weight would also allow whatever is in there to see me.

I have to do something. I can’t stay here forever. Come on, think. Do something. The scraping sound happened once more, this time even louder than all the other times before it, and that was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. I wasn’t sure how far I had to go before I reached the door, but if I walk there, that could dump me into a whole lot of trouble, and so would running. Either way, I’m wouldn’t know what would be the best way of getting out of this situation. At least if I run then I would be getting away from here a lot quicker if I walked. Taking a deep breath to allow my body to accumulate as much oxygen as it could. Then, as fast as my scared legs would allow me, I ran away.

I ran in the direction of the door. I ran and I ran. But I didn’t get far.

As if on cue, they leaped out at me. It was as if they were waiting for me to run, expecting me to get scared. To them, this was just a game. And the worst thing about this was, above all else… This was, indeed, a game.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)