top of page
  • Writer's picturebucky

"Fast" (2020)




Susan willed her legs to move faster. Darting between trees and bushes, sharp twigs snagged at her cornflower blue dress and tore at her bare legs, each tiny, red slice calling her chaser closer.⁣

“ˢᵘᵘᵘ⁻ˢᵃⁿ—! ᴹʸ ˡⁱ⁻ⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠ⁻ˡᵒʷ⁻ᵉᵉʳ—!”⁣

𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳. It was her mother’s petname for her, an affectionate moniker from her earliest memories. A loving embrace, daisies braided into her blonde pigtails, spring afternoons spent playing amongst sunshine and petals.⁣

𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. ⁣

Faster, harder, Susan bolted through the dark woods, hot breath escaping her lips in frantic pants. Narrowly avoiding the thick trunk of a tree, she failed to see the wild roots rising from the ground, almighty, gnarled tendrils that captured her ankle and sent the petrified girl crashing to the earth.⁣

Hands and feet pushing against the ground, Susan scrambled to right herself. Air forced from her lungs by the fall, the remainder left her in frightened gasps and breathless whimpers. With palms reaching to find purchase on the roots that had felled her, it only took a few moments for her blood to run cold.⁣

“ᴼʰ, ˢʷ⁻ᵉᵉᵗ ˢᵘᵘᵘ⁻ˢᵃⁿ—! ᴰ⁻ⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘᵘᵘ ᶠᵃ⁻ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵒ⁻ᵒᵒʷⁿ—!?”⁣

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫. The sound, the crooning, wet call of something not-quite-right.⁣

With eyes as wide as saucers, the girl dared to turn, lay crystalline eyes upon the voice that had been hunting her for days.⁣

Moonlight spilled through the tall trees, failing to completely illuminate her mother’s imitator. Instead, the light sparkled and glistened from something moving, a quiet, damp noise accompanying it, like the slap of a butcher preparing fresh meat. Wider, stretching, the wet corners spread, the nightly glow dancing over it’s surface as lazy syllables slipped from the crooning abyss. Each one, a cruel imitation, sounded unnatural inside the creature’s wide, fleshy maw. A maw, Susan realised, that was draped with coral pink lips. Lips that were not it’s own. Lips that had peppered a thousand loving kisses upon Susan’s forehead.⁣

“ˢᵘᵘᵘ⁻ˢᵃⁿ—! ᴹʸ ˡⁱ⁻ⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠ⁻ˡᵒʷ⁻ᵉᵉʳ—! ᴵ ᶠ⁻ᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʸ⁻ᵒᵘᵘᵘ—!”

Originally written and shared as part of Verbuary 2020:

2 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page