The End (A Short Story)

Sweat runs down my back as I force my bare feet to continue racing through the back alleys of Chicago filled with broken glass and sludge. I brush the moist, brunette hair from my face while I turn my head to see if my stalker is still pursuing me. Through fog misting the evening air, I see him. Black shoes. Black pants. Black hoodie. I can't see his face. I only know that he's after me.

I turn a corner, hoping to escape his eyes and get away from him for good, but instead I find myself at a dead end. There is nowhere to go. My eyes scan the brick wall in front me and at the same time I cover my nose from the putrid smell of sewage. I glance around after seeing the brick wall as nothing but an obstacle and decide to take cover behind a moldy trash bin in the corner of the alley. The air is warm and sticky here, but I don't care. Wind rapidly picks up as I take my hiding place, and I hope the air will mix the sewage and mask me in the horrid smell. I could still smell the perfume I put on earlier in the afternoon but pray my pursuer won't be able to.

Today. Oh, how today was supposed to be leading up to one of the best decisions of my life. This evening I was supposed to go to my wedding rehearsal. Tomorrow I was supposed to get married. I wipe tears from my eyes as I think about Peter, my fiancé, and I shove a fist in my mouth to keep from crying out as I realize I may never see him again. How could my day have changed so much in the matter of an hour? I was on my way to the rehearsal dinner when someone hit my car. A guy got out of the other car with a glinting dagger in his hand, and though I don't know why he had it or why he was heading toward me with a look of pure hatred, I knew that I needed to get out of my car as soon as possible and get away from the strange man. I glanced at the unrecognizable car behind me as I ripped my heels off my feet, bolted from the car, and sprinted down the street. The stranger instantly chased after me. I ran faster, trying to make distance, but he followed at an even pace. I ran and ran, as hard and fast as I could, until I found this alleyway and hid behind the dumpster.

I contemplate the face of my stalker as I hide in the darkness of my secret place. Through the shadows, I didn't get a super clear look at his face, but he looked almost. . .familiar. I don't know where I had seen that nose before, but I knew I had seen it somewhere. Though I didn't get to look at much else of his face, his nose stood out to me so much that even now, I couldn't get it out of my head.

After crouching behind the dumpster for almost fifteen minutes, I decide to take a chance and peak around the dumpster in order to see if anyone followed me into the alleyway. Seeing no one, I slowly stand up and sneak across the asphalt back to the main sidewalk leading out into the city. I turn and make my way down the main road, constantly turning around and looking for my stalker, wanting to know if he was behind me while also hoping he wouldn’t be able to find me.

As I step under a street lamp by the road and turn to look over my shoulder again, I notice my reflection in a store window and freeze for a second. My hair is frizzy and flying everywhere, no longer contained on my head as a nice rehearsal dinner up-do. My mascara leaks down over my cheeks, and my lipstick is smeared. But as I’m looking at myself in the makeshift mirror, I notice another image that is neither myself nor the lamppost directly behind me.

Standing on the other side of the street in the shadows is another person. He was wearing the black sweatshirt, black pants, and black shoes. He is watching me. There is nobody in the streets around me because of the late hour, and I feel vulnerable as I decide what to do. I immediately turn around and start walking quickly while trying not to act too freaked out. Maybe he hadn’t seen me notice him. I cannot be sure, so I continue making my way down the street and turn right as soon I can, hoping to add distance between him and me.

I turn another corner and come face to face with the hooded man. I jump back and scream, wondering how he could have caught up to me so fast. He must have circled around the block in the opposite direction of me, hoping to catch me. I trip over my own feet as I take a step backwards, but he reaches out his arm and grabs my right wrist before I make it out of his reach.

“Get over here,” he growls, dragging me down the sidewalk as I struggle against him.I fling my left arm around, trying to grab my captor’s shoulder. Instead, my hand runs across the bottom edge of the large, clothe hood shadowing his whole face, and I get a better idea. I allow him to pull me a bit further down the sidewalk, though still struggling against him, but when I feel the right moment, I lift up my left arm again, quickly hook my fingers around the edge of the hood and pull it as hard as I can. I don’t rip it off very far before the man whips around, lets go of my arm, and swiftly slides the mask back into place. During this half second break where I am free, I start running backwards as fast as possible, turn a corner, and continue my race to get away from him. As I push myself to keep running, though my lungs and legs are throbbing, I think about the part of a face that I saw right after I attempted to rip the mask off my stalkers head. As I blink, I see the stubble of a man’s chin behind my eyelids and I shudder. The color was dark and musky, reminding me of . . . no. It can’t be him. I shake my head as I remove the image of a person from my mind, take a deep breath, and focus on the main task at hand- staying alive.My lungs feel as though they are about to collapse as I continue to make my way down streets, through alleys, and around corners, keeping away from the masked man. I decide to make my way toward the outskirts of the city, believing my stalker would never think me stupid enough to leave the city only to be surrounded by dry acres of land and abandoned factories that make up the surrounding area of the city. I pull up a map in my mind and start to make my way down sections of the city, finding my way to the edge. A damp breeze picks up as my now-tangled hair sticks to my sweaty face. I make an attempt to wipe it off but end up tripping over my own feet in the process, and I hit the rough cement with an awkward thud. Gravel rips into the flesh of my hands as I stand back up as quickly as possible, and I notice that my palms are cut and bleeding heavily. I wipe them off on my brand new, used-to-be clean, navy blue skirt and gold blouse as I keep up a quick pace. I turn my head for a second and am relieved to know that my captor is not in sight.

Once I finally reach the outskirts of skyscrapers and mile-long blocks of buildings, I stop running for a few moments in order to catch my breath. I place my hands on my knees as I hunch over, willing myself to calm down. I can’t. Standing back up, I continue my race to freedom. I think about my family and friends who are probably wondering where I am, confused as to why I’m not at my own rehearsal dinner. Peter’s face comes into my mind, and I hope he is looking for me.

I hope at least someone is looking for me. I wipe my eyes clean of new tears and notice a dilapidated factory in the dark distance and decide that if I can make it there, I
can probably hide out for a few hours and escape the man who is after me. I break into a quiet
run, and the only sound I hear is my own breath.

In. Out. In. Out.

There is nobody else around, and I am thankful to know that the man hasn’t found me yet.

I run through recently harvested cornfields, filled with lumps of soggy dirt and uprooted
weeds. I trip through tangles of briar and step into empty holes, but I eventually reach the entrance of the abandoned factory. The large metal door was rusted shut, but a broken window on the left side of the door allows me to enter the building. I crawl through the opening and land on my hands and knees, resting on the ground filled with layers of dust from years of no use.

I stand up, wipe my hands on my clothes, and look around in the dim light coming from the vast windows on the side of the building. I vaguely spot a set of stairs in the back corner of the grand room and make my way over to them. I reach into my coat pocket for my phone before remembering that it is sitting in the cupholder of my car, so I am left in the dark as I slowly, quietly climb up the stairs to the second and third floors. I stop at the entrance to the floor and decide that climbing all the way to the third level would be my best option as I would be farther away from my perpetrator if he found me, and I could potentially sneak away when he searched the second floor. I sneak up the steps, search around for a few minutes, and hide in the farthest corner of the room behind a very old and large piece of broken machinery. I crouch behind the chunk of metal and pull my legs to my stomach. I lean my head against the wall, close my eyes, and begin to cry silently. I pray the man chasing me won’t find me out here. If I can hide out here for a couple of hours, I think I will be safe. Surely the man won’t find me out here. He wouldn’t possibly think of this spot, right?

I sit waiting for what feels like hours.

I hold my breath and stifle any sobs that try to escape me.

I don’t know what to do.

What do I do?

I sit waiting behind the machinery, keeping both my eyes and ears open to anything out of the ordinary. Every once in a while, I hear the creak of an old floorboard, and I pray it’s just the wind blowing through the splintered windows. The already dark sky becomes midnight black as storm clouds roll through the sky. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and shivers run down my spine as I curl my knees into my chest to hide better behind the machine in the corner. Time passes slowly, and I begin to have to fight off sleep that is bound to come as the sky gets darker and the night passes on.

I freeze suddenly as I see the shadow of footsteps coming my way, reflecting off a pool of murky water sitting in front of me. Dark clouds float by rapidly behind the broken glass of factory windows as I settle deeper into the corner behind a piece of outdated machinery, trying to turn into shadow. The footsteps stop a yard away from me. I close my eyes because I can't stand to look any longer. I can't stand to watch him get any closer. This is the end; I know it is. I crack open one eye and watch the dagger the man pulled from the car earlier glitter off a puddle of inky water resting by the machine. The man still had it, waving the blade dangerously. A light breeze rustles the hair on my shaking arms, and I close my eyes again, so I don't have to look anymore. 'Peter,' I think to myself. 'I love you.'

I start to relax as long minutes pass. Nothing is happening. Why isn't anything happening? I slowly open my eyes, thinking that maybe my stalker left because he couldn't find me. Ha! I guess my hiding spot was pretty good after all. I allow myself to take a few deep breaths as I prepare to get up and walk away from this place without looking back.

What I find when I open my eyes horrifies me. I look up into the glaring eyes of a man I know. His blonde hair is matted to the front of his forehead, and his eyes burn with a rage I have never seen before. His perfect lips curl into an evil sneer, and I hold back a scream as I try not to puke due to the suddenly over-empowering smell of rotting wood and musty air.

My emotions boil up inside of me as I squeak out, "Peter?"

In an instant, his malicious countenance turns into a blank stare. I see a crack of emotion in his eyes as he stares at me for a minute, but in another instant, it's gone. What is he doing? How could he do this to me?

He holds the dagger up in the air with a quivering arm and whispers, "Goodbye Anna."

The End.