hello, lovelies!
i found another piece of fiction i wrote back when i watched the television adaptation of sharp object for the first time. i wanted to try my hand at writing a thriller, or something like it, and i was really proud of this. i kind of still am, honestly. now that i've found it again, i kind of wanted to try to continue it, since it was labeled as "prologue", so i think i'll be toying with that idea and playing around in a google doc to see if i can write something decent. fingers crossed.
NOVEMBER 25, 1995
The blood in my mouth wasn't my own; neither was the chunk of flesh I spat onto the ground. I looked up, trying to see through the thick canopy of tree branches, but I couldn't see anything. My lungs heaved as i leaned against a tree, hoping to find some relief. The loud crunching of booted footsteps thudding against the damp forest floor sent me sprinting over logs and rocks again.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a knot tightening itself in the pit of my stomach. How much more could it take before it snapped like a rubber band? What would happen when it did?
I was sent sprawling across the ground when my foot came into contact with a rock. I let out an agonizing shriek, my head spinning. I knew my foot was done for; despite the pitch blackness of the night around me, I could still see that at least two of my toes were now bent at odd angles. One of my toes was gone. I fought the urge to vomit, my vision becoming blurred. I wonder if I had hit my head on something on the way down.
I tried to get back to my feet as I heard the footsteps once again, this time rapidly approaching. As I brought my now mangled foot up and placed it on the ground, my stomach instinctively lurched. The remaining contents of my stomach, along with what I assumed to be blood, emptied onto the ground and down the front of my already soiled clothes. I stood for a moment, hunched and heaving, and let the bile drip from my lips until I heard a voice call out from nearby.
"Blossom! Blossom, sweetheart, c'mon!"
Sniffling, I took off as fast as I could, limping and wincing each time my injured foot made contact with the moist ground. My ears rang as my heartbeat thundered through my head, reverberating in my skull. My body was on fire.
As I ran, my vision went black. Stumbling again, I scraped my shoulder against the rough bark of a tree as I went down. I panted as I tried to pull myself up again, but my legs refused to support my weight. I opted to lean my back against the tree, waiting for my eyesight to return; slowly, it did, though my field of vision was spotty now. Gazing at my feet, I could see that my foot, my good foot, was now pierced and skewered by what looked like a large nail; the adrenaline pumping through my veins had blocked the pain I should've felt of the spike going through my foot. I heaved again, but there was nothing left in my stomach to eject. I tried to draw my leg closer to my body so I could try to remove the nail, but it was pointless; I had a better shot at getting back up and running once again.
The sound of a branch snapping closer than I would've expected pulled me from my thoughts. I tried to haul myself up again, only to fall once again after a few steps. Determined, I began crawling, digging my fingers into the moss and mud and dragging myself across the ground with my arms. I refuse to die out here. I was going to get out of this fucking forest alive.
