The screech, it was about as equal as fake nails scraping mercilessly down a blackboard in an echoed room.
I backed closer to the tree that stood next to me and grabbed a stick from the crunching ground.
The stick was about twenty centimetres long, was thin and probably wouldn't hold a little finger if I had to use it to defend myself. If I had looked a little furthur from a thirty centimetre radius, I would of found much thicker and sharper sticks, but I was too frightened and edgy to go out of the protection of the tree.
I gripped the tiny twig in my shaky hand and moved slightly closer to the sound of the noise, keeping my legs spread and walking like a crab.
I felt a leaf curl around my foot and grip on; reluctant to leave the side of my foot as I continued crunching more half dead leaves.
I was moving so slowly that I still hadn't reached the other side of the tree trunk. I felt as though moving slower would keep my movements quieter, but that didn't seem the case. Every step I took seemed to become louder and seemed to echo in the trees.
The screeching had finally stopped, the hum stopping as well.
The air had gotten a somewhat eery effect to it... the silence stopping all movements in the woods. The silence sparked a sense of worry in me and made me feel anxious... why had it gone so silent suddenly?
In my chest I could feel my heart quicken as my skin got moistened with sweat. I could hear my breaths as loud as a stampede as they were released from my body.
I started moving along slowly again; realising I had come to a halt. The stick in my leg was still causing an unmentionable amount of pain with every step I continued to take. I could feel the wood splintering my pale skin with every impact.
I have been out here, in the woods, for about two days... It felt longer, but once I thought carefully about it, I could figure it out. I had been walking along, crunching leaves, freezing and without food, or water.
I was already feeling dehydrated, chills and a fever, my face burning up whenever I got a flush of heat. I had a constant sweat on my skin, most of the time a cold sweat. I had been feeling dizzy, as I walked around, it was had been even worse since my epidemic... Of what body fluid I had been able to pass, it was an unhealthy shade of a brown-yellow-green.
I was shaking. My body now leaning closer to the shelter of the tree, as if wanting it to protect me, save me. I was even thinking of going back to the hospital, but I couldn't. Not only the thought of going back there, but the attacker could abuse me on the way back and not to mention I would probably not make it all the way back in time. I would be dead before I even got halfway.
My body was slowing slumping down as my bones turned to jelly.
Stop it Hope. You're only making this worse. Snap out of it.
But it would be nice to relax... go off and sleep...
Hope, you could die if you go off. Think of that!
But sleep would be so much better...
I heard my consciences go to war off in my head. I decided to not listen to them at all, but I did know that I had to keep going. Find out what this humming was, if they could help me, or if it was a trap.
A trap. That thought scared me. What would happen if I had been lurking along the tree line for this long, only to be ambushed and taken away? What if they had been watching me all this time and there was someone on the other side of this tree, ready to pounce?
YOU ARE READING
Remembering Hope FindlayMystery / Thriller
"Hunted, hunting and almost gone." Hope, a natural hearted teenager. That's where it stops. What would you do if you couldn't remember anything from your life? What would you do if you didn't even know you had a name or what you were doing in hospi...