Sensible Living

As I approached the door, I knew this could go one of two ways.  I would reach the door and attempt to kick it open.  It would give.  I would have to maneuver the turn just right so I could start my ascent up the steps without him grabbing me.  Or it would not give and he would either run into my back from his momentum which could be very bad seeing how the blade could dig into me whether he meant to or not.  Or I could get lucky and he runs into my back from behind and gets knocked off guard.  This way I would have the chance to seize the weapon from him or if he was knocked down, I could resume my chase.

The door giving under my kick caused an explosion in my heart.  My adrenaline had driven my out-of-shape pathetic body to knock a solid metal door right the hell open.  The kick I gave him to the knee was from pure fear, but the run across the cement had strengthened me.  If I could have kicked him that way, my problem would be over.  Only doors stand there for you while black-clad killers do not.

The stairs were draining the wind from me.  My adrenaline pumped well through my veins, but I didn’t know if it would be enough.  The blade swiped near me legs.  Again.  Again.  I could feel the heat off the damn thing.  This man was determined.  He had as much to fear from me as a witness even though I hadn’t seen his face really.  I mounted the last flight of stairs knowing I’d have to turn and face him sooner or later.  I could hear my own breathing but not his.  The last flight was nearly over.  The third floor was another wide open spot.  I had to make my move.  I had to use my biggest strength.  I felt the black leather glove grip me.  The blade would be next.  This was it.  My move.




“So what happened next?”

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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)