I got bored so I decided to start writing, continuing to neglect the pieces I should be posting in my art thread. I haven't written in a while, so I'm definitely open to suggestions.
It was a dark and gloomy night, and a fog so thick that even the brightest of lights could its veil had filled the valley. The man ran, and ran, and ran. He had to escape, surely after three days they would stop their pursuit. But they didn’t. They would never stop. They were taking him somewhere, but he didn’t want to be involved in it. It would end up so poorly that he would be considered a dead man if he complied. He may as well be dead now with how he can swear that his lungs are burning hotter than the sun. His throat was starting to feel like a gravel pit, but he couldn’t stop to drink water. Every time he turned to see if they were there, he would see them. Four shadows, darker than the abyss that threatens to swallow his world. And so, he kept running. The very wind itself jealous of his speed. They were moving just as fast in unison. They were unnatural with how they behaved, like Satan himself had invited all his friends to come with. It was too terrible for words. Not even speed could save him from the evils behind. If so they tried they could catch up in moments. Even now, his legs here giving out, his muscles having been worked weak. He couldn’t run for much longer. And they weren’t relenting. Every few seconds he told himself it would be over soon, he just had to keep running. He wanted to keep going desperately. But fate didn’t seem to be on his side this time. A tree root grabbed onto his ankle with an iron grip, pulling his foot out from under him. He slams into the ground with a solid thump, and, despite his attempts, cannot rise back to his feet. His fate was sealed. They were approaching slowly, tormenting him with every slow and deliberate step. Bad enough he couldn’t run, but they were now giving him every attempt to run. Attempts he cannot take. He’s pretty sure his ankle is twisted or broken. Hands reach out for him from every direction, but he cannot run. He cannot fight back. They will likely beat him within an inch of his life if he resists further. He lays limp instead, at least then he may live.