The War

Her face was sweating. Her clothes were drenched with sweat and clung on to her lean frame as she ran from her pursuers. As she ran through the swampy jungle, she slashed away at the plants that obscured the view of her path. Her clumsily chopped short black hair was plastered to her forehead and neck. Just a few more yards and she’d either have escaped from her enemy or would have to die at their hands. Seven yards, six… five… four… three, but no. Fate had other ideas. She tripped over a creeper and fell face first into the slushy mud. She turned over and realised that her ankle was broken, probably beyond repair. She could feel warm blood oozing out of a wound on her calf, but she had no idea when that had happened. Death was imminent, and she knew it’d be ruthless too. What else do you get for killing off half their population? A medal?

She watched, terrified, as her Satan pulled out his weapon, a long spear with a very sharp head that glistened in the afternoon sun with the green tint of some deadly poison which would make sure she experienced excruciating pain before she died. He raised the spear slowly and brought it down with such brutal force on her abdomen that the blow should’ve split her in two, but-

GAME OVER.

Alex switched off the gaming console, annoyed at having been beaten by the system twice in a row at a game she was really good at. She walked over to the kitchen counter, and got herself a bag of chips. She sat on the couch, and slicking back a strand of hair that’d come out of her messy bun, settled down for a binge of her favourite TV series, The War Of the Worlds.

(fiction)

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