Hey guys. For an English project, our class had to write short stories. I just finished mine tonight, and I feel awfully proud about it, so I wanted to share it with you guys. Keep in mind this is the first draft. I'll fix grammar errors and edit stuff, then post them here for you all to read as they come. Without further ado, here is Running From the Past
Running From the Past
Jami
My name is Alex. When I was five, my parents were murdered. I was sleeping one night when I heard screams of terror. I rushed downstairs to see my parents’ dead bodies, pools of blood, and the shadow of a man in the door. He carried a giant axe, and blood dripped off it. I saw him turn around and, in a flash of lightning; his eyes seemed to glow as they stared right at me. That was the night when I began the horror story that is my life. That was the night… I ran.
It’s been twelve years now that I’ve been on the run. Somehow, I’ve managed to escape The Murderer, as I call him. We’ve had many encounters, however. The longest I’ve gone without seeing him was ten days. Somehow, he manages to catch up with me every time. He just stares at me silently, and then raises his axe as he wordlessly tries to end my life. Why he killed my parents, I don’t know… Why he wants me dead… I don’t know.
Minus the hospitality of some unknowing people, most of whom fell to the hands of The Murderer, I’m alone in this world. I can’t stop and settle down, make friends, get a life… He’ll just destroy it. By this point, you may be wondering why I haven’t fought back yet. Here’s where my story gets weird. Whenever The Murderer is getting close to me, I get a headache. It’s kind of my alert system, and it keeps me aware and on the run. Obviously, he catches me off guard sometimes, but usually it keeps me safe. As he gets closer, the headache intensifies, and I begin to see images. Once some images have run through my head, I feel nothing but fear, and I can’t fight back. The headache leaves me, and I run away again. As for others, The Murderer is almost always hiding in the dark, so nobody else can find him and kill him.
The images that run through my mind are rather cryptic. Sometimes, I hear voices. I hear crying, shouting… It’s jumbled, but it sounds like a father and son. Sometimes, I see a blurry man raise his fist and hit it down. They don’t make much sense, but they make me lose my will to fight.
When I’m not running for my dear life, I follow my daily schedule I have set up for myself. Every day, I begin by waking up and going for a jog. I go at a slow enough pace to not tire myself out, but quick enough to stay in shape. Once I arrive at a town, I’ll buy myself supplies for the day. I have a bunch of money to my name. I know it’s wrong, but I tend to… Overuse the hospitality of people. I need the money more than they do, though. Anyway, if I feel safe enough at the town, though I know it’s wrong, I will stay there and try to entertain myself. Sometimes, I go to see movies, other times I go bowling… Then, once the day nears its end, I have to find somewhere to sleep at. If it’s nice outside, I’ll build myself a camp to stay at. If not, I’ll find a house to stay at. Then I sleep, and repeat.
Obviously, if the Murderer shows up, my plans change. Whenever I feel the headache come, I run. He’s easy to outrun, as he always walks when I see him. It’s the times he catches me off guard that become the nightmare. Every once in awhile, he’ll swing at me while I sleep. Luckily, my reflexes kick in and let me agilely dodge him, but when I’m in a house, this is just the beginning. He chases me through the house! It’s the only time he runs, and it’s scary.
Once, the house I was staying at was locked as I tried to escape. I was unable to break through the windows, I was so tired. I had a risky plan, though. Standing in front of the window, I waited for him to swing at me. He did, and I quickly dodged. The window shattered, and I ran away.
Well, enough about the past. Today, I had built myself a campsite to stay at. But along with the campsite, I also built myself a trap. I decided to try and confront my fears, and if I couldn’t fight the murderer, I would make something that could. I built my trap, praying my strategy would work, and waited. I didn’t know when he would come, but he did.
Three days later, I was starving and exhausted. I took small naps, but I never left my post. I ate small amounts of food, but I was out by now. I was just about to give up, when I saw a speck in the distance. I knew it was him. I readied my trap. It was basic, but I thought it would catch him off guard. Finally, I saw him. When he came close to me, a storm brewed as my headache began. I saw his eyes glow, just like they did the night he murdered my parents. I saw a vision of a man who’s eyes glowed and maniacal laughter echoed from his mouth. When he fell into place, I sprung the trap. He dropped his axe, and was finally caught.
Seeing him there, defenseless, caused my headache to go away. I was able to see straight and focus again. “Well, it seems the tables have turned,” I said, staring into his eyes. Why did they seem so familiar…? He didn’t say a word. “Why did you murder my parents?” Again, silence. “ANSWER ME!” I yelled at his face. He didn’t say anything. I sat down in frustration. I looked at The Murderer and began to scan him. I noticed a bulge coming from his coat. I reached into the cage, and surprisingly, he didn’t react. I pulled the bulge out of his coat, which turned out to be a journal. I opened to book, and a note fell out. I skimmed over it, and soon realized it was a suicide note! I looked at The Murderer, who stared at me wordlessly, and then I sat down and began to read.
The first thing I discovered was The Murderer’s backstory. Turns out his name is John Patterson. He has one son… Alex Patterson. John was abusive. He was a single alcoholic who beat his son whenever he got mad. One day, John went to work only to be fired by his boss. He found out about John’s abusiveness, called the police, and fired John. John returned home and, in a blind rage, knocked his son out unconscious.
The police arrived shortly after. John, feeling guilt, rage, and wanting to avoid jail, wrote a note and committed suicide. The police entered, took the child out and rushed him to the hospital, and left John to the paramedics. However, before the paramedics came, John woke up… The suicide attempt failed, leaving him alive, but very weak. Apparently, he grabbed his coat, a journal, an axe, and left his house searching for his son.
Here’s… Where I come into play. My name is Alex Mason, son of Fred Mason. Fred was John’s boss. However, Alex Mason hasn’t always been my name. Before I was a Mason… I was a Patterson.
John came to the Mason’s house to find me, once he discovered the Masons became my foster parents. In his uncontrollable rage, he murdered the Masons. When he saw me, he wanted to apologize to me, but before he could react, I ran off.
John has spent his whole life chasing me… Not to kill me, but to apologize to me. Why has he tried to kill me then? Whenever he got close to me, he began to get a headache and see images from his past. He remembered how he used to be abusive, and his instincts took over and he tried to kill me.
Why couldn’t I remember any of this? I was knocked unconscious when I was three years old. I woke up, but I had amnesia. I was adopted to the Masons during the time I was in a coma, and the only memories of my childhood showed them as my parents. The images weren’t meaningless… They were pieces of my past. John’s presence caused me to feel danger, which caused the headaches, but also remember the past and who I am.
Finally… The suicide note. “Alex. I have been a terrible, terrible father. I've never shown you love, all I’ve given you is hate. After your mom died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I began drinking, and I couldn’t control myself when I hurt you. I just wanted to tell you that I DO love you. The love has always been drowned by the hate, and that’s why I hurt you. I hope that you have a better life without me in it. I hope you graduate, get married, and don’t turn out to be like me. I love you, Alex. I can’t say that enough. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Goodbye. John Patterson”
I looked my father into the eyes, and he looked into mine. A tear formed in my eye, and I wiped it away quickly. I knew what I had to do. My father has been dead the entire twelve years he has been chasing me. However, one part of him has survived… His conscience. Knowing that he survived the suicide attempt, and when he found out I was okay, he refused to let himself die until I knew the truth. I had to set him free. He made my life miserable, all seventeen years. He abused me, abandoned me, then tried to kill me. But… He’s my father.
“Dad. I… I love you. I forgive you,” I said. I began to cry.
The Murderer looked me in the eyes, and I heard him speak for the first time. “Alex, I love you. I’m sorry,” he said. There was a flash of lightning, his eyes glowed, then they closed as he fell down, finally at rest.
That night, I buried my dad. I had never felt so alone and confused in my life, though I should have been used to it by now. On his tombstone, I wrote “Here lies John Patterson, a confused man who found his way.” After the deed was done, I took one last look at the grave, and I began to run. I ran from the demons of the past, and into a new life I was about to forge for myself.
Jami
My name is Alex. When I was five, my parents were murdered. I was sleeping one night when I heard screams of terror. I rushed downstairs to see my parents’ dead bodies, pools of blood, and the shadow of a man in the door. He carried a giant axe, and blood dripped off it. I saw him turn around and, in a flash of lightning; his eyes seemed to glow as they stared right at me. That was the night when I began the horror story that is my life. That was the night… I ran.
It’s been twelve years now that I’ve been on the run. Somehow, I’ve managed to escape The Murderer, as I call him. We’ve had many encounters, however. The longest I’ve gone without seeing him was ten days. Somehow, he manages to catch up with me every time. He just stares at me silently, and then raises his axe as he wordlessly tries to end my life. Why he killed my parents, I don’t know… Why he wants me dead… I don’t know.
Minus the hospitality of some unknowing people, most of whom fell to the hands of The Murderer, I’m alone in this world. I can’t stop and settle down, make friends, get a life… He’ll just destroy it. By this point, you may be wondering why I haven’t fought back yet. Here’s where my story gets weird. Whenever The Murderer is getting close to me, I get a headache. It’s kind of my alert system, and it keeps me aware and on the run. Obviously, he catches me off guard sometimes, but usually it keeps me safe. As he gets closer, the headache intensifies, and I begin to see images. Once some images have run through my head, I feel nothing but fear, and I can’t fight back. The headache leaves me, and I run away again. As for others, The Murderer is almost always hiding in the dark, so nobody else can find him and kill him.
The images that run through my mind are rather cryptic. Sometimes, I hear voices. I hear crying, shouting… It’s jumbled, but it sounds like a father and son. Sometimes, I see a blurry man raise his fist and hit it down. They don’t make much sense, but they make me lose my will to fight.
When I’m not running for my dear life, I follow my daily schedule I have set up for myself. Every day, I begin by waking up and going for a jog. I go at a slow enough pace to not tire myself out, but quick enough to stay in shape. Once I arrive at a town, I’ll buy myself supplies for the day. I have a bunch of money to my name. I know it’s wrong, but I tend to… Overuse the hospitality of people. I need the money more than they do, though. Anyway, if I feel safe enough at the town, though I know it’s wrong, I will stay there and try to entertain myself. Sometimes, I go to see movies, other times I go bowling… Then, once the day nears its end, I have to find somewhere to sleep at. If it’s nice outside, I’ll build myself a camp to stay at. If not, I’ll find a house to stay at. Then I sleep, and repeat.
Obviously, if the Murderer shows up, my plans change. Whenever I feel the headache come, I run. He’s easy to outrun, as he always walks when I see him. It’s the times he catches me off guard that become the nightmare. Every once in awhile, he’ll swing at me while I sleep. Luckily, my reflexes kick in and let me agilely dodge him, but when I’m in a house, this is just the beginning. He chases me through the house! It’s the only time he runs, and it’s scary.
Once, the house I was staying at was locked as I tried to escape. I was unable to break through the windows, I was so tired. I had a risky plan, though. Standing in front of the window, I waited for him to swing at me. He did, and I quickly dodged. The window shattered, and I ran away.
Well, enough about the past. Today, I had built myself a campsite to stay at. But along with the campsite, I also built myself a trap. I decided to try and confront my fears, and if I couldn’t fight the murderer, I would make something that could. I built my trap, praying my strategy would work, and waited. I didn’t know when he would come, but he did.
Three days later, I was starving and exhausted. I took small naps, but I never left my post. I ate small amounts of food, but I was out by now. I was just about to give up, when I saw a speck in the distance. I knew it was him. I readied my trap. It was basic, but I thought it would catch him off guard. Finally, I saw him. When he came close to me, a storm brewed as my headache began. I saw his eyes glow, just like they did the night he murdered my parents. I saw a vision of a man who’s eyes glowed and maniacal laughter echoed from his mouth. When he fell into place, I sprung the trap. He dropped his axe, and was finally caught.
Seeing him there, defenseless, caused my headache to go away. I was able to see straight and focus again. “Well, it seems the tables have turned,” I said, staring into his eyes. Why did they seem so familiar…? He didn’t say a word. “Why did you murder my parents?” Again, silence. “ANSWER ME!” I yelled at his face. He didn’t say anything. I sat down in frustration. I looked at The Murderer and began to scan him. I noticed a bulge coming from his coat. I reached into the cage, and surprisingly, he didn’t react. I pulled the bulge out of his coat, which turned out to be a journal. I opened to book, and a note fell out. I skimmed over it, and soon realized it was a suicide note! I looked at The Murderer, who stared at me wordlessly, and then I sat down and began to read.
The first thing I discovered was The Murderer’s backstory. Turns out his name is John Patterson. He has one son… Alex Patterson. John was abusive. He was a single alcoholic who beat his son whenever he got mad. One day, John went to work only to be fired by his boss. He found out about John’s abusiveness, called the police, and fired John. John returned home and, in a blind rage, knocked his son out unconscious.
The police arrived shortly after. John, feeling guilt, rage, and wanting to avoid jail, wrote a note and committed suicide. The police entered, took the child out and rushed him to the hospital, and left John to the paramedics. However, before the paramedics came, John woke up… The suicide attempt failed, leaving him alive, but very weak. Apparently, he grabbed his coat, a journal, an axe, and left his house searching for his son.
Here’s… Where I come into play. My name is Alex Mason, son of Fred Mason. Fred was John’s boss. However, Alex Mason hasn’t always been my name. Before I was a Mason… I was a Patterson.
John came to the Mason’s house to find me, once he discovered the Masons became my foster parents. In his uncontrollable rage, he murdered the Masons. When he saw me, he wanted to apologize to me, but before he could react, I ran off.
John has spent his whole life chasing me… Not to kill me, but to apologize to me. Why has he tried to kill me then? Whenever he got close to me, he began to get a headache and see images from his past. He remembered how he used to be abusive, and his instincts took over and he tried to kill me.
Why couldn’t I remember any of this? I was knocked unconscious when I was three years old. I woke up, but I had amnesia. I was adopted to the Masons during the time I was in a coma, and the only memories of my childhood showed them as my parents. The images weren’t meaningless… They were pieces of my past. John’s presence caused me to feel danger, which caused the headaches, but also remember the past and who I am.
Finally… The suicide note. “Alex. I have been a terrible, terrible father. I've never shown you love, all I’ve given you is hate. After your mom died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I began drinking, and I couldn’t control myself when I hurt you. I just wanted to tell you that I DO love you. The love has always been drowned by the hate, and that’s why I hurt you. I hope that you have a better life without me in it. I hope you graduate, get married, and don’t turn out to be like me. I love you, Alex. I can’t say that enough. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Goodbye. John Patterson”
I looked my father into the eyes, and he looked into mine. A tear formed in my eye, and I wiped it away quickly. I knew what I had to do. My father has been dead the entire twelve years he has been chasing me. However, one part of him has survived… His conscience. Knowing that he survived the suicide attempt, and when he found out I was okay, he refused to let himself die until I knew the truth. I had to set him free. He made my life miserable, all seventeen years. He abused me, abandoned me, then tried to kill me. But… He’s my father.
“Dad. I… I love you. I forgive you,” I said. I began to cry.
The Murderer looked me in the eyes, and I heard him speak for the first time. “Alex, I love you. I’m sorry,” he said. There was a flash of lightning, his eyes glowed, then they closed as he fell down, finally at rest.
That night, I buried my dad. I had never felt so alone and confused in my life, though I should have been used to it by now. On his tombstone, I wrote “Here lies John Patterson, a confused man who found his way.” After the deed was done, I took one last look at the grave, and I began to run. I ran from the demons of the past, and into a new life I was about to forge for myself.
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