What makes a writer?
Story?
Life?
Need of money?
The truth is a writer is always alone... We are more emotional than any people around us and everything hurts more than what it hurts other...
But what we do, we do it all to share our loneliness...
To get Audiences' attention, to be read...
A service, done for nothing more than satisfaction we get from other's attention...
So Absurd, So sublime...
The rush of Adrenalin… His back was cold… his whole body was becoming cold... He could feel the fright in his veins…
The boy was scared.
He had heard it. It was in the darkness. He didn’t know what it was, or how big it was… but he knew it was there… standing in the darkness, looking at him with its eyes… it had first broken a twig and then it had shrieked… the shriek…
It was like nothing he had heard before… it was not a sound… it was a noise… the noise of something unknown… something creepy in the darkness…
He looked toward it… or toward where he thought the shriek came from… but the darkness was denser than his eyes could see it… he looked around…
He searched for a tree to at least cover his back… but there was no trees around him… round and round, there were just small bunches of grasses here and there… his back grew even colder…
The clouds moved for a second and for that brief moment he saw a shadow a hundred meters away… it was coming toward him… he tried to see it, but the moon was behind the clouds once again…
The shriek once more and his back went even colder… God… was it possible that someone’s back got this much cold from the fright? He felt a shiver…
Another one… it was behind him… as he had anticipated… something was behind him too… he could feel it… He turned so fast, but he didn’t see anything… he tried and opened his eyes as wide as he could… but there was nothing to be seen… it was just the shriek… the shriek that made him sure there was something there too… he was being surrounded… he turned once again… the shadow must have been closer now, but he couldn’t see it in all those darkness…
He sat down… the twig… it was broken from somewhere near… and the noise came from somewhere near… but what he saw was a hundred meter away at least… maybe he had seen them all in his mind… maybe there was nothing back there in that darkness… maybe it was all in his mind… he stood up and looked again, but now his legs where shivering…
The thoughts… he knew the shadows where real for he had seen them, he knew the noises where real for he had heard them, but now, even in his mind, his last refuge was broken too… he felt cold…. So cold that he started to sweat!
He started to run… but so fast he returned to where he was… they were in his back and in his front… on what logic he could run to left or right and be sure there aren’t any more of them there?