Short Story: The Running Man

Feet thudded agaist the pavment, carrying their owner faster than they ever had before. Their veins pummped fear through the body like water threw pipes. The bodys lungs struggled to hold in breath, crying out for it every moment. Muscles ached ang groned in agony, threatening to give way at any moment. The running man discovered it was true what they say, adrenilin makes the world seem clear. At this moment, in which adrenillin filled his syestom making one thought clearer than any other had ever been. He was going to die. This was not what he had expected when he woke up that morning. He had expected to get dressed, eat a pizza, go to another job interview, go get a drink at the local pub to drown out the sorrows of his life, and then go home. Most of the day went acording to plan, exept for that last bit. On his way to the pub he took a wrng turn, robly on acount of the three or four bottles of liquid currage he had drank befor the interview. That wrong turn sent him to a pub that he had never been to before, not that he carred as long as it served alcohaul.

As he left the pub he didnt notice that he was being followed. Be hind him was a shadow with a life of its own, it was something that would have scared him half to death had he been sober enough to notice it at the time. Halfway down the street halfway to the bus stop a hand grabed his sholder. He spinned around to see who had grabed him and saw... nothing. The absence of a person scared him more than having been