I run.
Fists of waves claw the sand as I force one foot to pound after the other. Scramble up, slip down, repeat. Faster. Eyes fixed on dunes ahead. Don't look back. Mustn't look. Ragged breath; in, out; in, out. Still I run.
Just when lungs might burst and heart explode, a crimson star on the sand, I stumble.
A man turns back. He pulls me to my feet and urges me on.
It's getting closer.
I cannot stand, and fall again. I can run no more.
He kneels to hold me, and looks in my eyes. "It's time. Quick, now! Put up the wall."
Closer.
So I build it, brick by brick. Row by row. A high tower, like Rapunzel's, but this has no window, nowhere to lower my hair.
No chance of rescue.
"Never forget who you are!" he shouts, grips my shoulders and shakes me, hard.
A blanket of terror obliterates the sea. The sand. His words, the bruises on my arms and pain in my chest and legs.
It's here.
YOU ARE READING
Slated
Science FictionKyla's memory has been erased, her personality wiped blank, her memories lost forever. She has been Slated. The government claims she was a terror...
