Before you read, you should totally check out the contest I made this for: LoST
Also, my opponent this round is Ludicrous so you should go wish them luck!
Anyway, you can read now...

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Pounding.


Rhythmic knocks that shatter my skull, ripping apart my mind until I can’t think.


I know that there’s nothing left. No ounce of sanity remaining to feed my unstoppable desire.


For what?


I don’t know.


I can feel the pounding as I run forward.


I can feel it as I see other people, a huddling collective only fifteen feet away.


I can feel it as I know I should stay back. But I can’t resist. I run ahead.


Amidst a group I see as all boys, one small girl stands out. Her tattered dress and matted red hair can’t disguise the beauty that lies underneath. And her face, smudged with remnants of blood and dirt, still has hope. I knew her once. Now I can’t even remember her name. She tilts her head to the side and frowns. “You okay?”


I can’t think well enough to respond. Instead, I hear the pounding become louder. I clamp my hands over my ears and sit down as my mouth tries to form a  scream but it seems like no sound exists. Except for the pounding.


The world is blurry now, and the girl’s eyes are the only things that I can see. Green fires that try to light my soul, telling me to remain here, giving some of their hope to me. But that’s all lost now. And I know it as I get up and run away.


Now I’m running again. For what seems like eternity, I’m running. And as I do, the pounding continues to throb in my mind. Suddenly I trip over a root in the ground and fall. Turning over on my back, I can barely see a setting sun through the thick leaves of trees above. But I can’t focus for long as the pounding continues. I get back up and keep running.


Finally the forest clears and opens up into a cement building with shattered glass doors. Blood is smeared on the stairs leading up to the establishment, and a ripped banner is barely held up on the outside. When I step in, birds are caged on both sides. Some of them are dead and lying on the bottom of their cages; others are still living, chirping wildly at me. But the loud screeches are nothing compared to the pounding, which is only amplified by the fervent screams of the birds.


I can’t take it anymore. Anger wells up inside my mind until there is no room for the pounding. Then it all leaves at once, as I slap the cages from the air and they crash into the ground. For a moment, I am relieved, because the pounding is gone. In one more it returns, and I collapse. I am weak. And I feel empty, although the pounding fills my brain.


I am hesitant to stand up, but I do. I notice that through the cracked glass, rays of sunlight grace my neck with their heavenly touch. But I shuffle into the shadows and the darkness fills my soul. I’m not normal. I’m angry, and psychotic, and evil. I think these thoughts and bring my hands to my face, focusing through the pounding, through the rage, at each individual drop of sweat that falls from my face and wells up in my palm.


I run out of the aviary.


I run into the forest.


And I keep running.


I come out of the forest once again, this time near a cliff that overlooks a valley below. There are verdant bushes that line the cliffside and a bench in the center that looks untouched. Instantly I feel rage well up again. This pristine spot is untouched, and yet I am burdened with the terrible pounding and the pain and the rage.


I kick the bench until it breaks and lodge the pieces into one of the bushes. While I’m swinging the plank, I hit my other hand and a gash forms, blood pouring out into a pool and staining the grass below.


I don’t even care.


I swing again and again until parts of the bushes have fallen below, and then I turn back.


For another moment the pounding stops.


And then it returns, painful once again.


So I turn back, and take another plank from the bench and swing it at the ground with tremendous force. When I do, dirt flies out from the ground, staining my face and clothes.


I hit the ground again. Next I attack a bush. Then I rip the plank in half.


And suddenly the pounding stops. Muddy and torn, with an odd smile on my face, I turn back to the forest, and I do what I seem to always do.

I run.