Terry held the handle of the door. He was wrapped in a rain jacket, warm clothes, and rain boots. He took a breath and left the apartment. He could feel the water in the air hit his face immediately, and he scrambled to close the door. He ran down the hallway and the stairs and began to brave the weather with his hands in his jacket pocket, and his head kept low.

  Puddles filled the courtyard, and they splashed as Terry took strides through them. The fountain had a dim glow to the rainwater that pooled in it.

  He could have sworn he heard laughter sing from it.

  He kept running and running, and rain splashed his face and pants. He exited the apartment property and ran down the road.

  It was dark. The sun had set. And the moon was beginning to shine through the black clouds.

  Terry continued down the road. He was nearly blind, but his eyes were adjusted to the dark, despite having to wipe the rain from his cheeks every few minutes.

  Down the road, a pair of headlights approached. He watched it get closer, hoping it would pull a bit to the other side of the road, and not hit him. It sped closer, and closer. It didn’t seem to notice him. It sped past him and he jumped into the ditch along the roadside. The car screeched and swerved.

  Terry began to try and stand. He could hear the car’s motor and a door open and close. A flashlight shined into the ditch, before focusing on him.

  “Who’s there?” The flashlight holder called out.

  Terry straightened up in the light and wiped off the mud. “My name’s Terry, I’m trying to get to a family friend's house.”

  “Terry?” He recognized the voice, it was Sheriff Johanson. “I needa talk to ya ‘bout something, get in the car! Yewl get sick.”

  Terry thought about why the sheriff would need to talk to him. He needed to get to the Stephens' house and out of the storm. He became hesitant.

  “Come on! We ain’t got much time!” The sheriff yelled.

  Something felt wrong. Not about the sheriff, but everything in general. Terry started darting his head around to find the source of his panic. The moon suddenly shone through an opening of the clouds.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Suddenly, everything lit up in a flash of lightning towards the center of town. There was a deafening sound like the world was trembling. It was the end of the world. Sheriff Johanson was blinded, and from the shaking, he fell against the car door. He caught and steadied himself. He rubbed his eyes until his vision was back. He stared at the sky. It was a paint palette of swirled gray and purples.

  “Crap. It’s already begun.” He muttered.

  When he looked down, Terry was gone.

  Trees swayed and broke limbs against each other. The forest floor was littered with leaves and branches, and a mist began to settle along the ground.

  Terry ran through the mud. He leaped over debris and wiped the tears from his eyes with the rainwater that continued to pelt him. He didn’t know why he ran. It was an instinct, something so loud, bright, and sudden, that his feet acted on themselves. He could still hear the ringing in his ears. Finally, he tripped over a branch that ripped a hole in his pants leg, and he fell face-first into the wet dirt. He turned his head for air and stayed laying in the dirt, feeling the beat of his chest against the ground.

  There was another reason he had run. A reason that was not as easy to explain. When the sky flashed with lightning he made eye contact with something. It looked like his own mother, but its eyes were swollen and weighed down by bags. That and the sudden shock made him run.

  Terry began to catch his breath. He shifted his head around on the ground, not minding the mud that was soaking into his hair. The sky above the trees was purple with deep streaks of gray clouds. Other than the rain and thunder, the forest was quiet. The stench of a rotting animal carcass filled his nose. He sat up when he realized his hand was holding a drowning earthworm.

  He began to listen again. There was a sound. It grew louder as if it were getting closer. It was laughter. Cackling began to come from every direction over the sound of the storm still beating.

  There was movement through the trees. Something small and quick on its feet. It clicked as it jumped through the barren trees. Its eyes, bright as the moon, kept on Terry.

  Terry leaned back to his knees. His clothes under his jacket were wet, and his jacket was covered in mud and leaves. He tried to brush it off until he noticed his stalker getting closer. It perched in a branch over him. The two watched each other.

  Terry spoke with a tremble in his voice, “What are you?”

  It replied in unfriendly clicks.

  Terry backed up away from the creature. It hopped to the ground in a gentle thud. It crept along towards him. Terry didn’t know what to think, he’d never seen anything like it before. It was the size of a lemur. Its claws dragged across the ground, and its teeth pointed from its closed and speechless lips.

  It lunged claws towards Terry. He jumped to his feet and stepped back, but it caught his jacket, tearing a hole. It lunged again and missed. This continued until he was backed to a tree. He couldn’t get away, and it gained on him more. It jumped on him. Claws ready to break his skin. Terry swung, but it jumped away, dodging the blow, and jumping back for another attack. Terry shifted and struggled. Sharp pains cut through his arms. Then, he grabbed its neck and rolled over into a puddle. He shoved its head into the mud drowning it. He felt his fingers pierce its skin. It shook and fought back until it slowed, and slowed, losing the fight it had, until its limbs fell limp to the mud with it.

  Terry felt its lifelessness in his fingers. He caught his breath, letting the realization come to him. He stood. He thought about what just happened and stared at his hands. There was a liquid, the color of urine, now between his fingernails. He wiped a drop from his face and looked at his hands again to see his own blood, crimson and running. The droplets of rain would wash it away soon enough.

  He started walking, scratching at the cuts on his arms. Hoping he’d find where he was. But, everything looked different and gloomy. There was screaming in the distance. He shivered. He walked until the rain started to die down to a sprinkle. Regrets of running from the sheriff, or even stepping outside to the storm, started to sweep in. He was told in hard times, to bow in prayer, and he did against a nearby tree. But, there was no god here, not anymore.

End of Part One