Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday! Every Friday I will post some of my writing.
Here is this Friday’s:
Her arms pumped, carrying her really, because her legs felt like jelly. Her heart was a boomerang inside her chest. Sweat clung to her brow, dripping down her forehead and threatening her eyesight. Her backpack and her feet hitting the pavement was the only sound that gave her away. Her shirt clung to her back and stomach, sticky, annoying, itchy. She wished she could take it off, let her body breathe.
Thick, wet steps thudded behind her, and her pace nearly doubled because holy shit, there was more than one person following her. Nearly too late, did she vault over a gate, grab a flag pole, and swing herself on top of the closest roof. Darting between buildings and alleys was giving her pursuers an advantage. She heard a curse in a language she didn’t quite recognize, and upon turning her head to see whom it came from, regretted it. From their gait, it had to be a woman, or at least a female creature. Her partner, the previous pursuer, was male. What did they want with her?
Her feet pounded forward, and at last she saw her salvation: a metal door. Not just any kind of metal, but the kind they couldn’t follow her through or better yet, track her by. She uncovered her wrist and thrust it forward, muttering a few words in her head, and fell in to the garage, landing on the hood of a car and rolling. The duos voices rang out behind her, angry, seething violence and venom. They’d been close, way too close.
All eyes fell on her as she lay sweating, a little bloody and out of breath, sprawled out on the pool table.
Abruptly, she was shoved off the table and onto the floor. She landed hard and winced. “The fuck did you land there for?You got amnesia of where we play? Or when?” Her intoxicated, dismissive older brother yelled. The smell he was giving off even had her head spinning. People around her laughed, most carrying on with what they were doing before.
When she didn’t get up, her mother came over to where she lay, attempting to help her. She froze when she saw her wrist uncovered, then shouted in their home tongue, giving orders. She was picked up, by who she does not know, but she knows it was not her brother, the one who had shoved her. He stood frozen with the pool stick in his hand, mouth half open.