Escape

It has been a while now, since I've been safe for this long; well, long enough to send this out.
Here I go.

Hi, my name is Benjamin Lestrange, and this is my story.

I'm constantly on the run, from whom or what, I'll probably never know; but one thing for sure, is that time is running out. I know I'm being chased, I can sense its breath; sometimes so close behind me that the hair on my back stands. But I don't look back, I can't afford to. Every step less that I take sends me closer and closer to my almost inevitable demise. But I'm not ready to surrender, no not yet. I just keep doing what I've been doing all this while, without a second thought about defeat.

I just keep running.

Oh sorry I forgot to mention, it's like a cave in here - pitch black and creepy, like the ones I'd see in cartoon shows as a kid, except that I'm not laughing now. There are times when I felt like it though, to just laugh at my predicament and give up altogether, but something in me kept pushing me on, and I did, clinging on to the ever fading hope that the end was in sight. I'm still subscribed to the very same belief today, not because I'm an optimist, but it's the only thing I have left - stubborn hope.

I used to be like you, like everyone else, minding my own business. The town I lived in was simple, but we were happy. I still remember the people there who watched me grow up - the nursery teacher, the butcher from across the street, the ice-cream man who would swing by every morning with his white van, bringing frozen treats to all the children.

It started with the flyers - "From rags to riches - Come live and work in the city today!"
We were all used to the simple life, so the city didn't really appeal to us. There were also stories about the city, unpleasant ones. We were skeptical, but we didn't care; we were happy and that was all that mattered Most of us shrugged the flyers off.
Don't fix what ain't broken.

But one went.

The promise of a better life came like gentle whispers and smooth hands caressing his cheek. Tired of his average life, he packed his bags and left. I still remembered that day, and more so, because that dawn painted a sanguine picture; but the desperate pleas of his wife and children not to go, made it almost comical that two contrasting instances could happen side by side. We tried to talk him out of it, but we knew that the moment he set off, he was lost. We saw his silhouette dancing past the clusters of trees and into the dense forest that led to the city.

He never came back, but the darkness came.

We thought it was just another storm, when the dark clouds came rolling in. The following morning came and I opened my eyes; or at least I thought I did, but I couldn't see a thing. Then I heard screams from a distance and panicked. Fumbling about for the door, I bolted out and kept going. I saw pairs of glowing red eyes all over the place, and the fate of the people was a forgone conclusion. They were consumed, not killed. The screams were cut off midway, like a curtain being drawn to block the sun. I wasn't going to stay there for another second - I ran for it.

Two of them saw me, and they gave chase.

I have no idea where I am now, and I still have no idea what those things look like; well, other than their hate-ridden eyes. I haven't seen a living soul for the longest time. I seem to have lost them, for now, so here I am, hoping that someone can read this, and if you are, I beg to God you'll listen to me - don't go to the city, or they'll come for you, and the people you know and love.

I hear the growls now, I have to go.
For some reason, I gave those two things names; it helps lighten the mood -

Greed and Power.