(This short story is finished and is only up for grammar corrections. Please help me so I can post it in our Writing Blog. Feedback please! ^_^ )
The Chase
No one would blame her for what had happened. She ran as fast as she could. The wind was sharp on her face. It knew what she’d done. The leaves were snapping at her feet. One slapped itself on her face. The scream was caught on her throat. She had to get away.
The knife dripped blood. She didn’t mean to cut him.
He had grabbed her. Terror was stuck in her throat.
She didn’t want to hurt him. But he had hurt her.
Anger was stuck on his openly flowing wound.
His eyes bore onto her back. He was after her. God, God! He's after me!
The trees were dark enemies, they scratched her body raw. The wind howled menacingly.
Birds and small rodents scampered away. No one wanted to be close, not even the vile things. She was all alone and on the run. God! Help me!
A boy from school stood alone, a few meters ahead of her. He was watching the stream as if it were important. The thought managed to touch her screaming senses, her panicked brain. But she didn’t care about him. He wouldn't be able to help her. Not against her pursuer. God! He hurt me!
Her feet became wings and she flew past him like a graceful gazelle, the ones she liked to watch on cable TV. The beautiful, desperate prey.
Fragrant and furious, a blur brushed past him, disturbing the surrounding foliage and knocking the scent of fresh rain and earth into the air.
A girl from school. An absurdly stupid and idiotic girl from school, judging from the sole fact of her presence in the woods this evening.
Miguel knew her. She liked sticking gum under people’s desk when she thought no one was looking. He had borrowed her scissors once. She didn’t even look at him when he returned it. Her name was on the tip of his tongue. Lillian. The lily. Lian. Le-Anne. She went by the name of the country singer.
It hit him on the next millisecond.
Something was wrong.
Before he knew it, he was chasing after her. That’s when he heard became aware of the sinister, hostile presence. It was breathing hard. It was dangerous.
The man behind them was after the Lily. Miguel shouted out a confused warning. Fear bit at his heart, a furious naked imp. They were alone in the woods. The man knew it. Miguel knew it. This was his woods and he knew no one would be around for miles.
But someone answered. Someone to the left. On the corner of his eye he saw the man falter. Ahead of him, Lily ran flat out to the sound of the voice. Miguel shouted again. He ran after Lily and tripped over a root.
He swung around with a fist, his mouth sickeningly open, terrified that the man would fall on him, and stab, stab and stab. God, I'm going to die.
But there was nothing but the wind and the emerald canopy of banana leaves hovered over Miguel. The earth was slick with rain beneath his raw palms.
He lay there and caught his breath, alone with his sprained foot.
The Visit
The man was gone. The house was burned. The neighborhood was in shock. He had killed one of their own daughters. But now he was gone. Lily had seen him, but she was safe. All because of Miguel.
Lily was a gracious person. But not to her parents. Not to people she didn’t like. Not to her stupid teachers. Not to indulgent adults. She only responded to Le-Anne, but she hated the name. It was her sort of punishment to herself. She wanted to annoy herself. She was insane. She had wandered into the woods alone. Maybe she wanted to die. That was ridiculous. She had everything.
Mom told her to visit Miguel. That’s why she was there in the hospital, staring at the starch white walls, wondering why they didn’t bother to spruce the place up. Maybe hues of pink and blue would cheer the patients up. Black would have been too depressing for sick people, and gloomy rooms might remind old people of their impending death. In the end Lily decided she liked the white walls.
She was sixteen and sullen. She had never felt sullen in her entire life, or so she likes to tell other people. But in truth she was bored and haunted by feelings she didn’t want or need. Why couldn’t she just be happy? Happy people had it easy. They didn’t constantly think about nothingness.
“Hi.” Lily mumbled. Despite herself, Miguel was a pleasant boy to look at, and she couldn’t help but hide her hair to cover up her ugliness. I hate that I’m not pretty.
She’s making it worse by covering her face. It’s so obvious she likes me. Miguel stared up at his unexpected guest and wondered what to do. “Hey.”
Well we’re obviously not going to be friends just like that. Popular boys never bother with people like me. “Hey, thanks for you know, saving me.” Lily fantasized about being tall, pretty and confident so she could talk better English/Tagalog to this boy.
“No problem.”
Lily stared at his dark hair. Miguel smiled at her politely and looked out the window. She really wasn’t a very comfortable person to be around. “Well,” He said finally. “Thanks for dropping by.”
“Uh. Yeah. Okay. Buh-bye.” And like a coward, Lily left.
That was the closest thing they had to a conversation. For the next few months Lily watched him at school and marveled at the wasted opportunity. Who cares? She forced herself to think. It’s his fault that he didn’t see beyond the surface. It’s his fault and his loss, that he didn’t get to know the real me.
Miguel hardly thought of her at all.
All the pretty girls were nice to him. They were funny, cute and smart. They had great moves on the dance floor. They had great moves in bed. He never went all the way with the virgins. The guys got off on porn and dirty magazines. Miguel had a secret stash himself.
But he hardly thought of Le-Anne at all. Except when the moon was full and the silver glint of the stream caught his eye from the window. Then he’d remember the graceful line of her back as she ran away. A desperate, beautiful prey.
