Run Run [Open]

Cracked asphalt and tar.

A loose chunk of gravel skittered and scuffed across the pavement as feet in battered old boots idly kicked it along. The smell of the road was home; more nostalgic and welcoming than any home or bed she could find herself in. Dirt ground itself into her pores and grit crunched between her teeth, flies buzzed and dried sweat tugged at her scalp. She could feel and hear and taste all these things that a sane person would detest as she sauntered along, skinny hips moving in an ever so slightly jarring, puppet-like gait.

She'd never felt so alive.

"Have you ever lit fire to a graveyard?" she asked no one in particular, her voice a sharp whistle in the otherwise quiet air. Her boots crunched loose gravel and sticks as she bounced and ambled her way on twiggy legs down the winding backwoods road, scuffing at leaves and the occasional piece of junk that lay abandoned to the side. Nobody answered her question and she shrugged, scratching behind her multiply-pierced ear and picking something out from under her nail. The deteriorating road she ambled along round and writhed through the countryside like a weathered old serpent, its hide cracked and crumbling, potholes like open sores created an obstacle to any who tried to travel down it.

A freeway hummed nearby with passing life and Kinni stopped to examine it for a minute, distracted by the speeding tons of metal as they competed with the dry chattering of cicadas for ownership of the country air.

She loved roads, but found the real freedom was never in a car or obeying the unspoken rules of travel. There was too much interesting stuff to see in the ditches alongside and the surrounding land- landscapes and treasures thrown or lost out of a passing traveler, sceneries never appreciated by the people too preoccupied with getting from point A to B. She sauntered along the edge of the road for a time, crossing over grass and slogging through a dried and gritty ditch to reach the freeway. On some days she'd happily hop her way down the median line, but today was not one of those. It was too busy and she had no interest in dealing with the cops or a broken spine this afternoon.

Grass and gravel crunched underfoot and occasionally sent up puffs of dust. The sun angled itself slowly through the afternoon and eventually the highway split, an exit promised a shitty diner nearby. Fuel for the body, even now she needed it then and again.

Really, though, she just loved greasy eggs and bacon with a generous side of oily hashbrowns. She dusted off and entered the run-down little one-counter contraption and gave a winning smile, snatched a menu, and made a nest in an empty booth. This would be home for a few hours, she might as well people-watch and pass the time.

There was the sound of meat sizzling atop a hot surface.

Spanish speaking cooks joking about somewhat loudly, though quiet enough to reserve a nuisance, in their own language from a place unseen behind the counter. The distinct smell of hashed brown potatoes being freshly cooked filled the air so subtly that only those closer to the kitchen would catch an air.

Minutes passed by slowly.

A small television was set upon an upper corner for all to see yet low enough for only some to hear what happenings were about in the world outside of their own. A series of violent crimes in various cities, disappearances, rapes, murders, thieves, wars, politics and all manner of indecencies yet the only report of any value, merit, or goodness was that a well known celebrity had just turned 42 this day and retains still the youthful appearance of a 20 year old.

Minutes still passed by slowly.

Yet quickly did such minutes they pass to the point of a broken silence.

"Mornin'," Spoke a homely voice from a place beside the table now occupied by the smaller girl, "What can I get 'cha?" A glass of container filled high with clear waters held afloat clear crystals of ice that clinked and clattered briefly and gently against the crystalline container and it was set before the girl

A straw still wrapped in paper.

A lemon wedged at the glass's brim.

The young brown haired woman, possibly still in her high school years stood garbed in a soft pink apron, holding pen and paper in hand, and held a kindly smile that by no means indicated impatience, timidity, or an unwillingness to serve. Though inwardly this young waitress did question the nature pertaining to such a one as this who sat in the booth before her.

Was she homeless?

Had she even any money to pay for whatever it is she would order?

Is she lost?

Is she dangerous?

Gosh, she smells.

Yet to some regard it would seem that this waitress was accustomed to, or at least experienced with, dealing with the sort of person as such a one who now sat before her as there was no lack of etiquette, no prejudice or discrimination, and no such aspect as being put off by the presence of this smaller girl who had made this booth her home for the time being.

A sweetly weary voice piped up by her side as the waitress smiled politely and offered her a drink, prompting Kinni to look up from the menu she had curled around as she tried to figure out what smells from the kitchen matched the laminated pictures before her.

"Just runny eggs 'n hashbrowns, honey." Was her cheery response as she laid the slick plastic menu flat on the table and pushed it forward as she stretched her arms across the surface, feeling crumbs and the oily remainder of whatever had been smeared across the table last. Wild green eyes smiled up at the waitress with a distant but sharp glint to them as the gentle little lady scribbled down the order, taking in the details of the girl's appearance. She was still youthful, but had bags under her eyes. The uniform was a bit rumpled from a tiring shift, the girl's hands were reddened and blotchy and the side of her hand was smeared with ink. Here eyelids were shiny and yet despite the moist film of sweat she wore, the young lady's skin was remarkably clear. She found this detail fascinating, for some reason.

Kinni grinned at the girl for a bit longer before thanking her and redirecting her attention to the glass of water before her. In this heat, the clear container had already developed tightly-packed beads of condensation that grew fat and heavy until they rolled down to the tabletop, where they slid around the base of the cup to provide a reverse halo for it. She watched this laborious descent intently for a few moments before plucking the lemon wedge from the rim of the cup and mashing it together between her thumb and fingers, splitting the fruit apart and opening ragged seams in its flesh as the juice dribbled out and into the ice-filled cup, swirling about for a moment before dissipating into the clear liquid. She dropped the rest of the wedge in and poked it down to the bottom with her straw, imagining for a moment that it was there to drown and she was to keep that straw in place until the lemon was successfully dead.

Little flecks of pulp slowly swirled around and avoided the ice cubes they shared their space with before Kinni let go of the straw. She poked the lemon around absently as she leaned back once again and let her gaze slide across the room, taking in the sights and sounds as diners chatted and silverware clinked, as the animated Spanish voices drifted in from the kitchen, the volume rising and falling as the doors constantly opened and closed. They sounded happy enough, and Kinni smiled at the thought. Everyone here seemed happy enough in this sleepy, shitty little place. That was good for them, let them be happy enough here, but she was never the type to understand that contented blindness. She was restless again, had been for weeks.

There was something aching and itching and crackling through her bones that drove her onward, to somewhere she didn't know yet, and it told her that soon enough, everything was gonna spill out like the guts of a deer hit by a semi truck. She wanted to know when that was gonna happen, and she wanted to be there.

But first hashbrowns and eggs. And a dirty 100 dollar bill that she had stuffed in her pocket would pay for the meal and maybe make the happy enough waitstaff a little cheerier for the day. A spoonful of sugar helps the ipecac go down.

There were, in those days, and also after, anomalies stirring about that served to only yield restlessness, whether subtle or great, in even the most peaceful of minds. Such were some of these afflicted therein that place that their fearful eyes kept fearsome vigil upon the girl, Kinni, from across the way.

He feared her.

For whatever reason it was she had struck such fear in this one, it was irrelevant. His actions had already long gone underway before he even had time to lift himself from that booth. And it was then, when he did, that he took arrogant strides fueled by such fear toward the girl, toward Kinni, and took a rather rudely taken place upon the seat in front of her.

"...You ain't from around these parts, are you?" His voice, cocky, arrogant, fueled by the same fear, spoke blatantly and without reserve or regard for dignity. And on him, behind the wrinkled blue plaid button up, the trucker hat advertising some unknown brand of alcoholic beverage, and the smell of unwashed hands recently come in contact with motor oil, was a trembling that drove him to stand firm against whatever threat this girl posed.

A child of a man if ever this place had seen one.

All other eyes cast continual glances at the metaphorical time bomb, as they saw it, about to explode.

For a moment the strange girl closed her too-bright eyes and listened to the soft chaos of diner life, she enjoyed the oily sizzle of potatoes and eggs on a hot surface in the back, the gurgle of coffee and wavering currents of conversation as the other patrons chattered and chewed their cud. The ice in her glass clinked about softly as she absently stirred the straw in circles, her attention once again captured by the drowned lemon wedge at the bottom and the shreds of flesh that sought passage beyond the cubes of ice towards the surface. She watched this mundane act of physics with her head slightly tilted to the side, her pose almost resembling a bird as it would regard prey or something shiny. Her head cocked sideways and gaze unflickering, she seemed almost marionettish.

A scrape of boots and a change in the movement across the room was noticed but gathered no response from her- this poor bloated lemon was once again being pushed around the bottom of her glass and remained the object of her attention. The smell reached her second. First came the rustle of clothes and the heavy, slow footfalls of a man making a stand, then came the delightfully earthy odor of grime and sweat and a hard day's work surrounded by motors and cement. It matched this place well, a little flavoring to sprinkle atop her hashbrowns when they came.

Through her peripherals she watched the unfocused heft of a simple, strong, stinking of terror man claim the bench across from her, even though she didn't necessarily need to see him to know he was there. Her other senses more than identified his presence. She lazily prodded the lemon as he spoke, aware and uncaring about the sudden silence that fell across the room as his rough voice rolled out the words in an easy accent. She let the silence settle in after he finished and took a sip of her citrus-bled water, her gaze settling on his hands and the tremors they shook with ever so slightly, the stains from grease and rough edges of his fingernails.

Those fingernails were far dirtier than the ones she remembered so well, but the raggedness was so similar to them. Abused, hard-working hands that fought hard for what they tried to make and hold onto, or for what they tried to scrub away.

Those witch's cat green eyes flashed as she took in the man's appearance and studied the lines of face, watching his eyes and the small movements he made while silence poured in between them. He'd asked her the obvious and her response was a Cheshire smile that seemed almost to split her face in two, like a slash across the throat that is both thin and gaping, or a ripped seam or a split zipper.

"Naw. Just hungry. I'm from these parts and anywhere like 'em, whaddabout you?" She tilted her head ever so slightly and regarded him with a curiosity that held no fear. She lowered her voice and spoke in a smiling whisper, locking into his gaze with her absinthe stare. "Are you one who fears the cracks in the pavement, has nightmares about the holes in the walls and what might seep between those worlds and this? Is it unsettling when what should be weak isn't and what shouldn't be is? I just want my eggs 'n hashbrowns, cuz I'm a hungry, hungry little lady. Wanna share them with me?" She released the stare and smiled as she leaned back again, taking an easy sip from her drink and looking all the world like all was well, except for that poison glint in her eye.

A smug chuckle as though fear had not become him at all. Perhaps a vain attempt to simply shrug off the uncomfortable weight of what pressed on his heart so obvious and unyielding. It was futile. Nevertheless, he sat there in an even greater-in-vain attempt to pose an intimidating threat with simply his mere presence and derisive words.

"Listen," Disregarding her series of questions, "If I were you, I'd eat whatever the hell it is you ordered and get outta town. We catch you hanging around here any longer and there's going to be trouble. Got it?" Threatening words fueled by malicious fear and heartless misunderstanding. As quick as he spoke he stood to his feet and took his former place across the way where he cast the occasional glance back at the smaller girl whilst bragging to his one or two companions of his most brave, yet simple in his own words, exploit.

"Here you go, miss." Spoke a friendlier voice from some odd steps behind as the young girl, the waitress, yet again returned not long after, balancing a plate of eggs and hash browns in her hand prepared just as they had been requested. Such a plate as this was thus set gently before Kinni as though Kinni herself was some guest of honor worthy of esteem.

"Enjoy." Spoke the glee-filled voice before she simply walked to a place behind the counter to commit to deeds assigned to one such as herself.

And all went one as they had been.

The banter in the kitchen,

The many voices speaking from the world within the wooden box of lights and sounds,

And the canvas of dead silence that all activity seemed to rest upon.

As the man sneered and postured in an attempt to look fierce, she merely studied him. With eyes both sharp as flint and hollow did she pick him apart; she noticed how his hands shook and how his gaze would flick here and there like nervous, darting flies. Kinni slowly stirred her drink, the constant motion blurring the lemon shreds into the water and turning the liquid a cloudy shade. She seemed not to notice; her attention was focused on the troubled man. It only took a small movement forward and a tenting of her arms to lean in close and rest her chin upon her interlaced fingers, but the end result was that she was a good degree closer to the stranger than he would have liked. The smile in her voice was still present even though there was no matching expression. The soft-spoken words were for his ears only, the warning keen despite her tone being pleasant.

"Don'tcha worry about me, sweetheart. I'm here for the simplest of things, just a 'lil fuel and such. But I wouldn't be so sure that y'wanna provoke things you don't really know much about, mister. Notice how strange it is, you over here with me? Scareda little ol' me? I'm not what you should fear. I'm justa warning of what's to come if you ain't careful. Lemma pass, lemme be,, watch yourselves an' be a good boy and I think it'll all be just fine."

She smiled sweetly as she unfolded her arms and leaned back, her stare losing intensity as she half closed her eyes and watched him quickly exit the booth. Despite the smile on her face that accompanied her amused demeanor, something minute seemed ruffled. The restlessness in her bones had grown to a near-noticeable tremble; her best outlet was to scan the room and watch her visitor return to his booth. He was a simple man of the earth; something she knew and could respect if only things were different.

The view she held was blocked by a passing figure and a lively voice as the pretty young waitress arrived with a steaming plate of breakfast delights. Kinni's smile widened as she made room for the plate, thanking the sweet young lady with a sincere but short response. She liked this young girl, despite knowing her for less than ten minutes altogether. The waitress retreated to whatever place she had come from as Kinni toyed with the food, splitting open the eggs and mixing them in with the hashbrowns to create a delicious mess. Salt and pepper were added liberally as she worked her way through the satisfyingly oily meal, her gaze fluttering about the diner and every so often resting once again on that son of the earth who was so very, very nervous.

It was unexpected how much she could shovel into that sharp-edged frame of hers. It didn't take too long before the plate was clean save for some yellow yolk smears and the slick oil splashes left from the hashbrowns. Dabbing her mouth with a napkin and neatly piling all of her used dishes together, she pulled out the wrinkled bills that had been stuffed in her pocket and smoothed them neatly. She paid and left a generous tip, scrawling her thanks on a clean napkin and tucking the note under the bills left for the kind waitress before grabbing her back and sauntering out the door.

Once in the parking lot, she dug through her bag for a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter, finishing off a good breakfast with a relaxing smoke. The air whined with insects and muted anticipation- the road nearby hummed with traffic and called her to keep walking on towards her goal. It was a long trek, and she was curious about the details along the way. Perhaps this tiny diner needed her presence for a bit longer, perhaps not. Either way, she would finish her tobacco treat and let her meal digest a bit longer before traipsing off into the wild brown yonder.

It went along it's very way, like time, indifferent of her presence.

Such an aspect, time, was often met with disregard yet people cared so much for it that they would risk their lives simply to conserve what few minutes they had left to clock in at a day's labor. So too was this "thing," insignificant to most yet should they become aware of it's very existence, they would surely risk their very lives to conserve what few minutes they had left.

Though should her eyes fall upon it, she would see nothing but an ambiguous form laboriously going along it's very way as it so quickly became hidden by the brush and the trees that surrounded it.

It dragged something heavy of sorts.

Whatever it was or whatever it is, it seemed quite uncaring for the eyes of humans as it simply proceeded along it's own way in such lights as this dragging whatever it was it dragged in it's stead; it could be nothing more than a corpse that was being dragged along.

Quite obviously a corpse; it couldn't possibly be anything more.

Though the possibilities pointed toward the near endless.

Whatever it was and whatever it was dragging now was no longer.

Soon, and soon enough, it would border on the impossible to uncover such a mystery as this, as it would have been long gone unless some wayward eye had caught sight of such a sight as this and found it best to give chase.

Kinni exhaled a thin trail of smoke and watched the wisps curl and catch the breeze, carrying both smoke and smell off into nothingness as she tapped the cigarette lightly to dislodge the ashy remains. The air hummed with sleepy life all around her, the mechanical whirring of the diner’s various generators and the distant thrum of traffic beyond that. A soft undercurrent of natural sounds provided a barely perceptible layer; it was unnoticed until something interrupted it. As when a familiar white noise is suddenly shut off and true silence can be heard, such was the interruption that came with the heavy death-silence of an unordinary presence. She blinked at that minute change in the atmosphere and glanced into the brush, eyes narrowing to near slits all the while she kept an easy smile on her lips.

The cigarette dropped and was ground under a scuffed rubber sole as the thin girl approached the figure. Her gait was unconcerned, at the most curious and perhaps a little amused by a sight that would otherwise send chills down a sane man’s spine. With a slight tilt of her head, almost reminiscent of a greedy magpie watching some shiny trinket or a hyena sizing up another’s kill for the stealing, Kinni watched the form as it struggled to drag its burden. She skulked about the thing in a half-circle, easily navigating brush and branch as she watched the wavering edges of the being, rather than attempt to focus on any specific detail. Whoever and whatever this was, it was not one with a form that wished to be easily identified. This time she did not blink, instead darting along to keep pace with the specter like some scavenging animal ready for a time to strike. And strike she did, but with a rush of haphazard words rather than actions.

“In a cryptic mood today, are we? Dragging the reluctant dead or pregnant fates for someone to see? Why choose now, why choose here, I was havin’ a bit of fun in there. An’ don’t ask me to do shit fer you or anyone again, I gotta go west til I hit the coast. Y’know how it goes. That looks heavy. Is it my fate yer draggin’ today? Or pretending to? First the son of earth, then you. Now I know sumthin’s up here, now I’m cur’ius an’ itching to play. Wasn’t too nice’f you to do that to me. Not too nice at all.”

Her words matched her gait, slinking and weaving along like a joyous thin wolf following a dying target. She watched the figure drag and struggle, unconcerned with the weirdness of the scene and itching to do something fun again. The restlessness had graduated to a tingling burn throughout all her bones, she wanted to move, move, and move, run and claw and rip and bite and feast and find what she’d been searching for. But the burn had to wait, there was probably still work to do and many miles to go before she could find the one she needed to seek. Visions of alabaster faces, hollow eyes, and sin-roughened hands had kept her awake for nights on end, she needed to find that one soon. Perhaps this presence here was no detour; whatever its purpose, she wanted to know.

It heard the words of it's follower, and indeed such a being as this could only be an it, an it and nothing more. It was then that such an it as this released it's burdensome load and made pace further and away from the smaller girl that followed as though one of the toying sprites that brought mischievous strife in the depths of night.

Fleet of foot and quickly gaining distance did it strive to disappear in the deepest depths of these smaller woods. It's catch of hunted deer having been left behind in the chase told only of the brutish yet intelligent nature of such an it as this.

The chase continued;

A dried creek bed.

In the near distance, in the now clearer view, this being walked now as though unabashed and unafraid, away from it's pursuer, away from death, toward the thickness of more denser wood ahead almost arrogantly confident of whatever safety was to be found there.

Fur, as the fur of an animal, covered completely the entirety of this being. It's glory, from the decoration of hues in contrasting shades of dark brown, to it's clumsy gait, and it's menacing size, loomed prominent in this very moment but not after, when the it would simply vanish from sight within denser trees and brush to be remembered by none but the wayward eye that would perhaps catch sight of such an it as this.

But for such a moment one would see it's lurch, how it was almost ape-like though it walked more like a man, and like a man it turned it's head to snatch a quick glimpse at it's follower before walking along once more unabashed, unafraid, and seemingly indifferent as though all fear had been lifted from it's being and it had no more a reason to run as swift as it had.

It vanished quickly in the thick brush leaving behind it's follower in a near mocking Abandonment.

But Something else loomed in this place.

Something else watched from a place nearby.

It was felt upon the skin as clear as dark.

"Fallen down the rabbit hole again, have you?" spoke the sound of a voice more felt within the mind than heard within the ear, "Not to worry. It's not as bad as you think here."

"You might even find that heavy fate."

[/size][/font]

The woods whipped by as she trotted and wove through the brush, a strangely gleeful grin plastered across her face as she followed the enigmatic beast. What luck she had, what joys the fates always provided for her! How many beings had she met in her time that the reasonable type would scoff at? Ah, but nobody knew quite like her or the other old ones what secrets this beautiful ancient new world held. There was glory and evil hiding just below the soil, just beyond the cover of the woods, just under the skin of the water. Everywhere. Build your churches, your mosques, your synagogues, your shrines, and your altars, but this wild and filthy side of nature will last as long as the earth itself holds on.

This daughter of the earth knew these things and held no fear of the creature that she followed. It was a smarter animal than most and had more claim to the land than those who built their roads and tore the earth apart in their futile conquest of it. She watched as the ape left his kill behind, but did not move to steal it. She had fed, she was full, and this creature deserved not to have to find another meal after being scared away from this one. She stilled for a moment on the other side of the dry creek bed and scratched at her scalp, pulling a few twigs from her tangle of hair and watching the being lope away.

Funny that she, a tiny creature in her own right, could scare something like that away. Or had she?

The gangly female stilled and tilted her head as a voice reverberated through her mind, felt more than heard. She smiled slowly and looked around at the comforting wild, perhaps to catch a glimpse of the one who addressed her. Not that the sight itself really mattered, what was unseen was more often than not more important than what was visible.

"Nah like th' rabbit hole 's anyplace I'm not f'miliar with." She chuckled and sat down, humming softly at the words that followed. "I like it here, 's the worm-death tha's suffocatin'. You here t' tell my fortune? I know where I need t' end up, but if you got news for me, I'd like t' know. What calls me here? Things're stackin' up in this place, can ya tell me what storm these precede?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to go, clay girl."

There was the sound of footfalls hurrying along as if in a panic. Something chased a something else behind her and should her eyes turn and see she would see the sight; a vision, more like a memory familiar yet not, more like a dream.

A girl, not much older than Kinni herself, frail and fragile, fueled by desperation ran a vain course of escape from men of eight, each bearing the weapons of their time; rifles and torches. In her desperate fleeing she fell upon the dampness of the dirt beneath her feet in breathless and restless anxiety. Staggered by panic and stunned by despair, she could no longer move to save the life of her.

And she had no face.

"Poor soul," Spoke the voice from whatever ether it belonged in, "This one suddenly found herself amask'd in things one not ought to be amaske'd in."

They unleashed the wrath of their weapons and there her spirit departed.

But it was not the weapons that killed her.

"Look here, clay girl, there are no more rabbits, no more keys and cakes, only boxes. Understand?"

So suddenly did it come upon her then, the darker shadow; a silhouette of a man garbed in pitch nothingness and, like nothing, it had no face, only eyes that shone intensely bright in a moonlight silver glow and it spanned the height of three grown men standing atop one another at their heads.

"In order to live, one must simply live, but die."

But it was not this being that spoke such clearer words but something else.

It moved upon her;

As if to kill her,

It moved upon Kinni.

"Now die, clay girl."

And it lunged at her with claw-like hands; fingers jagged like old knives eager for the impale.

But the smaller Kinni would be not without hope.

Two paths were given her and they stood out clear amongst the chaos.

One of three would save her life.

Or, perhaps, her death.

A pocket knife, small and fallen near a tree where two lovers left behind an incomplete mark having been scared fearfully by these woods and all therein.

A mask, once white but dirtied by time and earth, left behind by one ill-fated enough to bear the weight of it's call.

"Careful, this is the last heaven you'll see." Spoke the voice from it's place within whatever ether it belonged.