Brallon Oneshots

sighted

Brendon knew that walking in the woods at night was dangerous. He knew that wild animals prowled the maze of trees with grim intentions. He knew that fugitives lurked behind every unsuspecting stone ready to stab again. He knew that everything could go wrong- he could have his insides become outsides, or, he'd paint the serene forest a grotesque shade of red.

He still walked anyways.

It was cold, and his breath billowed before him in small clouds of personal smog. Crickets hummed and owls questioned the universe to dark skies. His hands were dug heavily into his coat pockets like ticks, searching for warmth. Dappled moonlight carved a path that he mindlessly followed. Brendon liked it that way.

Then he heard it. A tiny wail, a raw hoarse cry for help. It sounded like some form of deer or elk- sacrifice, alerting others at the risk of deaths cold, clammy, clutching hands. Panic arose in his throat.

He heard the sharp snap of a branch being harshly split and the heavy thud of the deers body resonated in his chest. He could feel it in his throat. It wasn't to far off, actually. He could almost see it- a tall, black, cloaked figure. It's coat draped over the ground and clung close to it's thin wiry frame. It was turned away from Brendon.

Brendon feet seemed to be sucked into the soft green grass, holding him defiantly in place as he stared on the the stranger. A deer lay dead at it's feet. His anxiety began to crecendo.

It's times like these when you reflect on your idiocy. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there. Like they say, hindsight's 20-20- fuck that. Hindsight's a bitch. Brendon decided he needed to get out of there.

Before the stranger could notice, Brendon turned and began walking away. He hoped the song of the forest would mask his forcefully light breathing and slightly scared footsteps. He hoped the scent of pine would cover his own. He prayed the trees and mist would hide his suddenly meek form.

Snap!

A twig popped under his foot. He could practically hear the stranger whip his head around, no doubt expecting to find another deer or some other unsuspecting animal.
It's eyes widened in surprise.

Brendon paused, too afraid to turn around. His legs were trembling. He could feel it's eyes boring into his back. His breathing hitched as he decided what to do. Synapses fired. They fired wrong.

He decided to run.

His tan coat turned to the hide of a meek and feeble doe, frieghtened and alone. The cloaked mystery whisked after it, grinning. It was a high speed chase through the woods. Brendon could hear the stranger following him.

He created his own path, spite the moonlight. He dashed left and right, sharp turns and angles, kicking up dirt and leaves and mulch with every desperate stride. The person behind was even more determined.

Minutes passed like hours and Brendon's lungs burned. His heart sped and soared and lurched in his chest. He couldn't take it much longer.

Brendon stopped. His aching legs slid out under him and he hauled himself into a nook to hide in- under a large boulder leaning on a tree. The stone was chilly and smooth against his sweat soaked shoulder. Dirt smudges covered his face to hide his fear.

"Where'd you go?" A light voice whispered to wet air.

Brendon steadied his breathing the best he could.