I start the story and you continue in the comments.
OSCAR (mid 30's) rapidly cuts through a chain link fence, sweat drips down his forehead as he struggle to clip the last link. Its night time, its hot and the crickets are chirping. Suddenly, a light beams on him and he's blinded as an alarm sounds...
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As he's struggling with the fence, he starts to think back oh how he got here in the first place. His hands are sweating from the heat, he drops the cutters. He looks back at the light and hears dogs and people in the distance. If he hears the whistle he knows he won't make it this time. He reaches down for the cutters. He hears a loud whistle behind him, some shouts "HE'S OVER HERE!" He cuts the last link and rushes through sliding down the embankment.
He scrapes his hands and loses his cutters, but he doesn't care. Distance. That's all he has on his mind. Distance from dogs, distance from men, distance from this place. He turns his head back for a brief second and sees lights dancing above his head. Lights sweeping, searching, exposing anything they land on. Just not him. They can't touch him. Distance is good. Distance is life.
From the bottom of the embankment he can hardly see the jetty; tangible darkness seems to be emanating from the moonless, starless night.
Almost there
He breaks out into a wild sprint. Behind him the voices intensify—or is it the throbbing in his head worsening? His grasp of reality has been slipping every day, every hour, every minute, which is why he is running out of time.
He looks back once more and sees he is losing ground. A wave of panic washes over his body. If they catch him now—
better not to think about it.
that was awesome can you resteem i want to keep it going!