Followers

21 August 2012

PURSUIT




 250 WORDS


The prickles on his neck told him they were hot on his heels. When you’re a fugitive, it’s a skill you develop quickly if you hoped to survive.

Sheltered by ferns, he drew his knees to his chest, clasped his shins and dropped his head.  He’d smeared his dark clothing with wet mud earlier. Now,it had caked and he knew that he blended in with the forest foliage.

There was little he could do to disguise his natural scent, but they didn’t have dogs to help them, and he knew his enemies were unaware of their own body odours, let alone his.

Hunger gnawed at his gut. He had one apple left in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk it.They were approaching his hiding place. Adrenaline rushed as he sucked in his breath.  

He heard them enter the small clearing, hesitate and then disperse in different directions.

As the relative silence of the forest returned, he allowed himself to relax. A leering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He’d beaten them. All he had to do now was make his way back to the car.

He rose and stretched, fished the apple from his pocket and bit deeply into the flesh.

Stepping out from the cover of the ferns, he felt a sharp thudding pain. He looked down horrified at the large patch which was spreading across his chest.

As he slowly sank to his knees,his fingers reached up to touch the thick yellow paint.

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