Free My Little Rabbit by James DeSantis Page B

kitchen.
    “Hey, come on now, that's not fair. You know
that's not true.” She followed me, like I expected something
different?
    I opened the fridge and grab a can of soda.
I began gulping it down as she strode in. Her face was red, clearly
annoyed with how I was acting. Which was funny seeing a freckled
redhead getting even redder. “I don't know why you have to be
so...so...”
    “I told you Megan, I don't need your help. I
don't need anyone's help. I just wish you'd stay back in Jersey.” I
took another sip, awaiting a response.
    “Fine. I'll leave tomorrow night. You
clearly don't want me here.” She turned and walked towards the
bedroom. Moments later I heard a door shut loudly and a scream. A
typical habit my sister did growing up. I grin as if I won some
type of victory in a battle. I had pissed my sister off, who was
only trying to help, and thought of that as a win.
    It was better than the alternative.
     

Okay
     
     
    The field crops are up to my chest. Each one
is brushing by me as I continue to stride across the field of
whatever the hell I'm in. I only stop because my stomach begins to
growl, my heart is still racing, and my feet are getting as weary
as the rest of my body. My eyes feel heavy, as if they're about to
shut any moment. If the crazy clown-looking man wasn't going to
kill me I might die of an heart attack. I rub my long sleeved shirt
on my mouth and study my environment.
    The yellowish crops give off a terrible
odor. At first I can't pinpoint what it is. It smells of something
wicked, though. As if a animal died and was left for months. I
search my area but nothing is tracing me back to the source. The
deadly smell keeps creeping into my nostrils and I'm beginning to
feel nauseous.
    A quick shake of the crops from the left
make me jump.
    I eye it closely, waiting for any quick
movements.
    “Hello?” I ask to nothing.
    No other creaks, everything is silent. Could
have it been an animal?
    A shadow is within the crops. I could see
it. I could feel someone watching me. What? The clown? No.
Something else. Its eyes directly on me, as if studying me. I take
a step back. I hear something snap in half from the original spot
where I heard a sound. Something or someone is there. My ears are
ringing with a pounding sound. I take another step back. I hear
something else snap. The shadow is growing. My heart is blasting
now.
    I about-face and jet.
    I was never a runner. In fact I hated even
jogging. I could never make the team in high school, nor did I care
to. Still, my mother told me it was a good extra sport to pick up.
Too bad I skipped just about everyday because stamina sure would
come in handy right now.
    As I run I can still smell the dead animal
aroma. As if it's following me. Could that be? What the hell, that
shadow could be something dead. I saw a clown who had a tongue
larger than a butcher knife. Anything is possible right now.
    I skid to a stop a few yards away and check
back. Nothing. No shadow following me. No crops being pushed away
in favor of somebody stampeding through them. Just the quiet chilly
night, my shallow breathes, and the awful smell.
    I turn to walk ahead when there stands a
man. He's in a long white coat, his tallish figure easily
overshadowing me, his hands shaking. I stumble back, nearly
tripping on myself, and look at him. He was a fairly reasonably
good looking guy. Tall, six feet probably, blond hair, in shape. He
was perfect, except for the fact that his eye sockets were missing
eyeballs.
    He took a step forward, opens his mouth, and
tries to mutter a word.
    It makes me shake with fear.
    A gurgling sound erupts from his mouth;
spit, mucus, spraying everywhere. No sound however except for that.
No words are being muttered.
    I feel the need to sprint in the opposite
direction. You know, not stand around a man with no eyeballs.
However, I can't just run. I feel the need to know why he's here.
What does he want? What is he saying.
    “Speak,” I say steadily, despite