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The Running Grounds




The woman bled as she ran to her backyard. Her husband followed.

She climbed over the fence and started limping towards the woods.

Her husband pointed his revolver with a steady hand and shot her until the chambers were empty.

With her lungs punctured, she fell.

There she lay, quietly agonizing as she cursed him with every last breath.

~ ~ ~

Heavy rains flooded the grounds in the following months.

As the woods were cleared to make a running track for a housing project that was being built nearby, the construction workers found her remains.

"We should call the police, so they can investigate."

"No, the construction’s been delayed long enough as it is with the rain. Surely there’s nothing they can do at this point; the rain must have washed up all the evidence. Just mash it up and put it in the concrete mixer."

"What are you crazy?!"

"DO IT OR YOU’RE FIRED, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"Well I quit, fucking sick…"

Bang

"I’ll do it myself then…fucker.”- said the man, after he claimed another victim.

He mashed up their remains with jackhammer, and he shoveled them into the concrete mixer. The track was laid and was covered with the tartan running surface. No one would ever find out.

~ ~ ~

As people settled into the apartments, they began to use the running track. Quickly, they learned to avoid running there at night.

The field was unnaturally dark and misty. The runners felt chills and panic, as their steady pace turned into a frantic sprint towards the safety of their homes.

But something seemed to follow them…

…all the way to their dreams where they were haunted by the bloodied corpse of a woman who commanded them to kill.

By the end of the year, a total of seven murders and six suicides had occurred.

~ ~ ~

On the anniversary of her death, she harvested the souls after they had fermented in restless solitude.

She gathered them and gave them purpose.

She pointed them towards the point of origin of their affliction.

She promised them, after they avenged her, they would be free.

He was drinking whiskey in the backyard, when his blurred vision detected the approaching specters.

"What is that?"

He stood up and stumbled towards his fence. There, he squinted and recognized her in the distance.

"THAT FUCKING WITCH!"

The specters lead a sonambulistic horde, covered by the mist and darkness.

He took out his gun and futilely emptied his magazine.

The horde marched on.

He broke his bottle of whiskey against the fence and slashed wildly.

Until the chill descended over him, immobilizing him.

Leaving him helpless against the horde of his sleepwalking neighbors.

They pummeled his body into the ground, they tore him apart, and they consumed him completely.

After this communion, they could finally rest in peace.

—
Credits to: kvtvkvmbs

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