Story pages.
The lane
in the middle of nowhere
She had ran what seemed like ages.
"Who are you?" she screamed, peering down the dark lane, the man who was following her before could no longer be seen.
She was out of breath as her chest hurt from the constant running.
Then she peered in the other direction further up the lane, a little house could be seen, as it was slightly covered by thin plantation.
She decided to head in that direction now, hopefully someone would be home to ring the police.
She knew it were late as she had been nightclubbing up the city, waiting for the bus this stranger had pulled up offering her a lift, at the time she thought it was pot-luck.
But as they drove back towards where she lived he then changed course and started heading in the wrong direction.
She remembered thinking at the time that he were having a laugh with her. But as he carried on driving with an intense look on his face, she then realised she was in big trouble.
Through the fear she remembered picking up a sharp instrument of some unknown description, but because it were dark in the car she did not know exactly what it was.
She also remembered smashing it into his face as he let out a peircing scream.
Then running for dear life as the car got furtheraway.
That had been ten minutes ago now, or that is what it seemed like, as the running seemed endless, like running the 1500 metres. The problem was though, she had never been that good at athletics, so if the strange man was now following her she were shit out of luck.
She were exhausted and could not take no more.
The white moon above reflected the empty grass and trees that surrounded her.
"Please let someone be home," she muttered, now heading in the direction of the lonely house.
She could hear her light shoes tapping the concrete road as she walked quicker then normal.
She had finally reached the wooden gate situated at the front of the garden, and opened it.
The gate opened with a slight creak.
Walking along the narrow path towards the front door she noticed some small animal scurrying through the over-grown grass in a nearby field.
"Bloody hell," she remarked, her heart was racing with nerves.
She tapped on the front door lightly, knowing it were very late.
Surprisingly a key rattled in the lock a couple of seconds later, and the door opened inwards.
An elderly woman stood there in a white dressing gown, a fearful expression on her wrinkled face.
"What do you want dear?" she said nervously.
"I think I am being followed by some man that I met tonight, may I ring the police if that is OK with you."
"I am not sure," was the woman's reply.
"Please I am desperate," she begged.
The woman standing in the doorway then looked back nervously down the small hallway, like her eyes were scoping something else.
Then at the far-end of the hallway a shadow of something was seen.
She looked at the woman and then realised the man was already in the house.
"Come with me," she screamed as she wrapped her arms around the woman and dragged her out of her house.
Along the garden they both ran towards the little quiet lane, the creaking gate in front.
They heard the front door shut with a loud bang.
"I'm going to kill you both," a man's voice shouted behind them.
The gate was now closed as the two scared women ran along the lane.
The older woman stopped suddenly, exhausted.
"I can't run anymore, save yourself dear," were all she said as she fell onto the hard floor.
A siloette of the man could be seen now, as he stood a few metres from them, "You bitch, my face hurts like hell."
"Who are you?" she shouted.
"I am the man who is going to kill you tonight," he screamed intensely.
In her pocket the young woman found something heavy and cold by touch.
What could it be she thought.
Taking the object out of her pocket she realised she were holding some sort of gun.
And that is when she came to the realisation that she would now have to use it on this psycho bastard.
She had never shot a gun in her entire life, but the more she thought about it, she did not actaully remember anything at all about anything.
She aimed the gun the best she could at the threatening figure in front, her fingers moved and she heard a click.
She didn't really understand what was really going on as her body would move without thought like she had done this many times before.
She pressed the trigger and a loud bang vibrated
Then like a miracle he fell onto the lanes surface gasping for breath.
A hand was felt on the young woman's shoulder, she looked round to see a man dressed in a police uniform standing beside her.
"You passed the test," was all he said.
She suddenly remembered her own identity, like coming out of a vivid-dream.
Her name was Sarah, and since she was a child she had always wanted to join the police-force.
The year was 2056.
This was all a simulation to see how she would cope with stress in a dangerous situation.
All around her disappeared as now she stood in a metal room consisting of screens and keyboards.
Also still tied to an upright chair.
The policeman she had met in the dream stood in front of her, a smile on his handsome face.
"I remember what it was like when they gave me this shit, I was stuck in zombieville fighting the undead. I tell you Sarah you had it bloody easy compared to that shit," he said smirking.
Sarah laughed as the fear was now leaving her, and she were happy the test was over with.
She had never been so scared in her entire life.
The End
The Dream
Micheal had not been a well man for sometime.
Even he did not know what it was, but sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night screaming.
Usually between two or three in the early hours of the morning, where the moon would radiate the darkness.
But the moon could not radiate his dark thoughts.
Slowly they were getting worse like a caged animal trying to get out of its closed domain.
The nightmares were terrible also, he would be all alone in a field blood pumping from his chest as in this nasty dream he was dying.
But from what? Maybe it was a gunshot wound or a vicious stabbing?
The nightmare was the same most nights, as he trekked through the open-field looking for anyone to help him.
But as usual no one were there.
And then he would wake, thankfully in his bed safe from harm.
The worse thing was though when he did finally awake and scream out loud his wife would jump out of her skin also.
For many nights he would apoligise, but now the bed was empty apart from him.
They had trouble with there marraige for sometime and this was the final straw.
His wife had left him for another man, and it had broken his heart, ripped him in two.
Micheal wiped the sweat from his brow and proceeded into the bathroom to drink a glass of water.
When finally in the bathroom he peered in the mirror at himself, he looked like shit.
He picked up a see-through glass that stood on a shelf near to the sink, then filled it with coldish water.
Within five seconds the water had been drunk.
He looked at the hanging up clock that had been placed near the shower, and it read two forty three.
He knew it was time to go back to bed.
The strange thing was, once the nightmare had been, the rest of the night would now be peaceful.
At least that were something.
The alarm rang dead on seven as Micheal reluctantly made his way out of bed.
"I hate mornings," he moaned as the night before was still affecting him.
He put on his work clothes and then left the house.
He was now dressed in a blue suit, white shirt and striped tie.
He got into his sporty car, the make Lotus, with its slimlike body and smooth curves, and drove to work.
He entered the bank where he worked at approximally eight o clock, and made his way to the desk.
"Morning," someone said behind him.
He looked round to see David standing there.
David was a young worker there, just out of college, training to be a bank clerk.
"Morning yourself," Micheal replied.
Out of nowhere the higher man of the bank appeared as he walked through the main public room with a stern look on his face.
"Morning," he barked, then disappearing through another door at the far-end of the big room.
"Tosser," David whispered under his breath.
"He's not that bad," Micheal said alarmed.
"The blokes a tosser."
"Whatever," Micheal concluded, he was not in the mood for an argument.
The day went well as many costumers did not come in and complain, which made a nice change for once.
The moment five o clock hit the staff were leaving the building for home.
Micheal being one of them, still wearing his blue suit with pride he decided to head to a cafe for a coffee or two.
He entered the COFFEE HOUSE at five something and sat down at one of the nicely decorated tables that only seated two at most.
"What would you like sir?" a pretty waitress asked.
"White, one sugar, plenty of milk," he answered.
The waitress walked off heading towards the main counter.
Micheal gave a fleeting glimpse at her well-shaped behind.
Once the coffee had been drunk he left the pleasant coffee shop.
Proceeding towards where his beloved Lotus was parked, just behind some grotty market stall, which sold smelly fish.
"Afternoon," he said to the man behind the counter of this so-called stall.
"Afternoon yourself," the bearded man replied.
Micheal was just about to enter his car when a scream was heard just behind him. He looked round shocked by the sudden commotion, and realised the fish-selling man was being mugged by two youths wearing baseball hats.
Micheal decided to intervene, not wanting to see an elderly man getting a kicking.
"Just stop there," he shouted as he ran for the two teenagers.
He bundled one of them to the hard floor, smashing his shoulder in the process.
Then suddenly everything went blurry as a shot was heard from behind him.
What was happening?
Suddenly he was trapped in the nightmare again as an empty field full of grass and trees surrounded him.
But this time it seemed different, as there seemed an end to this dream once and for all.
A conclusion.
Blood pumped from his chest, but now the pain had gone.
He stumbled along the wet grass, unaware of where he was and what was really happening.
His legs went weak as he fell onto the grass.
He died in the park just behind where the market stall were situated.
The other man had survived because of Micheal, and for years after he would tell anyone who would listen the story of this brave soul.
Micheal's life by the end might have been sub-standard, but in the end he died a hero.
The End
Running For Your Life
It had been many years of training to finally reach this day.
The problem was you had to be good to even come this far, and he had.
It had not been easy though, as the training was hard, ferocious.
The crowd cheered as now they had arrived in there thousands, seated accordingly around the stadium.
He stood at the start-line, waiting to run the one hundred metres.
It had been a dream for him to run since he were a child, and now he was running in the most famous event ever.
He looked up at the crowds as some stood waving excitedly at the upcoming race.
And then he heard the voice of the race organiser, "Take your positions."
It was time for the most important race of his life, and he were ready.
He crouched at the clalked line, and took his position
He listened carefully for the race organisers voice, and through the now silence his voice was heard.
"On your marks, get set, go."
He flew out of his crouching position and followed the lane in front as he ran for the dream he had believed in for so long.
Ten metres after ten metres passed so quickly as now he were in top-speed.
There were three runners in front only a metre or so away, making it four runners behind him.
Gritting his teeth and ignoring the slight pain in his chest and legs he started gaining on the third runner.
Then like magic he slowly passed the great athlete, only two left and if he could overtake them, the race was his.
The commentaters were a drone in his ears as he did the best to block most of the noise out, if not he would screw it up.
He carried on running as his legs and arms moved at terrific speed as now the second runner was getting closer to him.
Suddenly the runner in front fell hard onto the red rough racing track.
If it wasn't for super-quick reaction he would of fell also, but luckily enough he missed the other athletes leg by a mere inch.
Only one more runner in front, then the gold medal would be his.
Peering quickly down the track averting his eyes from the target in front, he could see the finishing line, so close but so far.
He tried to reach the other athlete who happened to be of African decendent, but the more he tried the more he failed.
The African runner with his super sized legs passed the flags, and his arms went up in utter surprise that he had won the race.
He passed the finishing flags also a mere half a second later, he had come second.
The roar of the crowd vibrated around the huge stadium as now the great race had ended.
In someways he felt disappointed as he stood on the track.
But the silver medal would do for now.
In another four years the gold would be his, and that were a promise.
The End
Routine
She had lived with her husband for years, in the early days he was a wretch.
But now they were both hitting seventy, she was now getting use to his silly habits.
At certains times of the day he would cough repeatedly, also fart in a very undignified way.
But now it was comforting, it were strange to say the least.
He had always been down to earth you see, say what he thought, done what he thought.
But deep-down she loved him too bits, not really knowing why?
Maybe it was because he did not pretend to be something he was not.
She were a nurse in the old days before getting older and retiring because of arthriritus.
Her husband on the other-hand had trouble with his liver, down to nights out in the pub.
But they were in love and that is all that mattered.