There is a man on the road.

He is running.

Is he being chased?

I don’t know.

But he keeps running.

Running like his life depends on it.

Running fast.

I don’t know why that man is running.

He looks scared.

Very scared.

There’s something following him.

Something big.

Something scary.

I’m safe inside.

But the man is in the road.

He has to keep running.

Outrun the beast.

The beast is chasing him.

Gaining on him.

Run faster I want to shout.

I don’t shout.

I don’t want the beast to see me.

To chase me.

So I stay quiet.

I watch the man get caught by the beast.

Torn apart by the beast.

It’s unpleasant.

But I watch.

For I couldn’t help.

But I can watch.

So I watch.

For his sake or mine?

I don’t know.

The beast turns.

He turns towards the window.

I duck.

Did he see me?

I don’t know.

The window smashes.

A giant hand appears.

Searching and grabbing.

He saw me.

The hand finds me.

Grabs me.

Pulls me out of the window.

I scream.

Nobody comes.

I am torn to pieces.

Limb from limb.

I meet him.

The running man.

I meet him in the white place.

I apologise for watching.

He said he did the same.

It’s how he gets you.

He lets you watch.

Then he eats you.

Now we’re here.

Where is here?


We did no wrong.

But we watched.

Not perfect.

Not evil.

In the middle.

In Limbo.

Published by Hannah Rachel

I am a Writer from the North West of England with a passion for books, writing, art and everything creative.

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