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A bunch of random crap I found in the recesses of my writing folder, along with some newer stuff. Feel free to add.

I hear her stumble and twist round to see her pick herself up. She's tripped over a tree root.

A couple of metres closer behind they follow, rifles aimed. We can't run fast enough, we can't get away, why are we still running? Why?

"Run Anna! Run!"

*

Awake.

The voice comes like a pinprick of light, the lifeline thrown to the drowning, and I don't want it, I don't want any of it. Just let me go, let me die, let me away from this. Why won't you let me go?

She screams my name through a memory, run Anna run! I'm already running. My head won't turn fast enough to miss the bullet go through the back of her head and turn her pretty face into a nightmare. These boots were a bad choice for running.

The End

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