Chase - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The chase is on my dear and I will find you. I will hunt you down like the vermin you are and exterminate anyone remotely connected to you. Don't think you can evade me forever, you are already in my cross hairs. I have a bullet made just for you, you're going to love it. So run, run as far as you want, hide in whatever recess of the globe you occupy but know that I will find you as I do all traitors. I promise you not only death, but a painful end beyond measure. Should you ever stop running I will only catch you all the sooner so don't even think about asking for mercy now, I never learnt the meaning of the word. So let me toss this bullet in my hand while I meditate on your destruction and the cold leap of joy I will feel when your light is extinguished from this vile planet of "happy" creatures. That which I cannot exploit I will destroy. Is your heart pounding yet? Are your feet burning as they run over the hot coals I scatter? Soon you will flee on blisters, then raw flesh. Your father isn't the only one who keeps his promises child, you should have switched sides when I offered you the chance.
Dogs in hot pursuit, excited baying in the distance, hurdle over fallen tree, bracken and brambles lash bleeding legs, torn to shreds, heart in mouth, salty sweat stinging eyes, humidity like a wet duvet, oppressive air, run upstream, dogs closing, sun sinking, long shadows, heart racing, feet blistering under sodden sneakers, fear, wide eyes, desperate, pushed beyond all endurance, startled deer bounds away, branches like reaching arms, whipping branches, branches clawing at me, barking louder, closer, snapping jaws, fear like an iron hand around my neck, choking the life out with a relentless grasp, hopelessness gnawing at my insides, despair a shackle around my ankle, forest closing in,darkening sky pressing down.
Weaving dangerously in and out of traffic, half blinded by glare of headlights, onslaught of bullet sized rain drops thundering onto the windshield, wipers frantically moving over the never ending sheet of water, blurring the street, chasing the smudged red tail lights, back end skidding out wildly around corners, tires squeal, engine pushed to the limit, over 100 km/ph through red lights, exhilarating, nerve-wracking, adrenaline pumping, risk-taking, swerve, dodge, insane speed, lost sight of car, brakes locked, skid, hydroplane, ear-splitting bang of metal on metal, air-bags deployed, wail of ambulance siren.
Running over loose rubble tumbling down steep rocky scree slope, feet slipping, grasping at shrubs with hands, hear clumsy footfalls crunching over the stones further down, furious breathing, rasping breathing, stabbing pains in side, feel sick, adrenaline pumping, twilight falling, mean crescent moon casting almost no light at all, half obscured by a shroud of thin cloud, legs like lead, empty legs, light headed, heart pounding, heart thudding loudly, twisted ankle, throbbing ankle, trip, stumble, fall, cuts and grazes, shouts, threats, closing the gap, trap, surrounded, narrow escape, hiding.
The chase is only sport for me, but means everything to you. For me, taking your life is just a small part of a wider game. I know you have been told that victory is assured for your side, it is of course a lie to bring hope where there should be none. You are in a dark cave being granted the illusion of light, no more. There is no spark of hope, there is no rescue coming, it's just me and you little rabbit. So run, let your white tail bob high as you scurry to save your own skin. You aren't a hero, you are nothing, less than a cold rain drop on a scorching desert. What you bring will evaporate into the sky leaving the landscape unchanged, barren and desolate, a playground for my guns and bombs. So next time you see your father tell him from me, "Next time don't send the girl, I want the boy."
The chase wasn't out in the open, it wasn't the one side running over the baked tarmac from the other, it was more insidious. The chase was a calculated move, first send out the bait and see who bit, then poke for their allegiances. The last step was to stalk them, all of them, and take out the entire network. Our side saw the other as a cancer, they saw us as an irritation, slowing their progress to take over the entire body.
The chase is what I live for, hunting down the mark and going home richer. I don't hate them, they're just a means to an end - male or female, young or old, what do I care? Each one of them is a fat addition to my off shore account. Often times I signal I'm coming for the pleasure of watching them run, observing as they loose all rationality in fear. I feed on it, soak it in. It is the elixir I need to survive. We all have our guilty pleasures, it's just that I don't feel any guilt for mine. To me killing is pure pleasure. Don't forget to run now, otherwise its all a bit of a let down, an anticlimax.
Chasing is what I do best. I can't tell you what a pleasure it was hunting down your brother. Sometimes I go back there in my mind and play it over again. He died so horribly, abandoned by the ones he went to save. I guess that's what you spies are trained for though right? What does he say before you go in for these impossible missions? Does he tell you he loves you? I just die laughing every time I hear that. It does make you strong though, I see that. You're immune in all kinds of ways you shouldn't be. It won't help though, it'll just make the game last all the longer. Goodbye for now little rabbit, enjoy the sunshine while you still have a skin.