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Henry stepped out onto the pavement of the road, looking down the length of sweltering blacktop. The cracked and broken pavement shifted under his foot, and for a second he thought he might fall, cut down by the hot sun and the lack of water. But he only swayed from side to side, then took another step. He crossed the road slowly, making sure to keep his center of balance straight, because he knew if he fell, he would not rise again. The sun beat down on him, and not a cloud in the sky offered him shade or rest. To Henry's tired, bloodshot eyes, the sky appeared a deep shade of orange, or maybe maroon. It was so hard to tell when it kept changing. 
He heard it behind him, snuffling like a dog. It was too close now, far too close to outrun it again. Even now, so near death, he found the strength left to shamble forwards in a poor imitation of a jog. He heard a whistling sound as it swung at him. He fell forwards, as if he tripped over a curb, and the swing missed, describing a deadly arc inches from his spine. His teeth felt loose in his head, and he tasted blood, a coppery taste that seemed to dull his senses. His ears felt like they were underwater, and his extremities, such as fingers and toes, seemed to be gone. He staggered forwards one more step, and his foot left the blacktop and once again hit soft sand, treacherous sand. It took another swing towards him, and this time, he braced for the blow. He was far too gone for him to dodge again. It struck him midway up the back, causing his back to flare into an arch. He fell sideways, his arms outstretched but facing the wrong way. His head connected with the ground and he blacked out.
In his fading, fevered mind, he revisited his life in full. "So this is what it means for your life to flash before your eyes." He thought dully. He saw himself in his apartment, the very first night it had started. He had been sleeping, and had been awoken by a tremendous blow to the head. His eyes had snapped wide open, unseeing but striving to identify the source of the blow. He had fallen he remembered, out of his bed and onto the floor, where the vicious blows had continued. He had looked up and seen the pale blue thing and panicked. He tried to run, but his feet got caught in the blanket. The blows continued unabated. 
His back and head, already aching, he had finally got his feet under him and ran. He looked back at the thing, and it seemed to grin at him as it slowly followed. Its head tilted to the side, like a small child would when questioning something. He had slammed into the front door and ran, too terrified to look back. He ran in the rain till he got to a small phone booth. Then he had dialed the operator and asked her to call the police. The line had only been open for a few seconds when it went dead with a click. He heard tapping on the glass, and turned around to find the thing tapping on the window, still smiling it's gruesome, toothy smile. It began to pry open the phone box with its cold fingers. He-
Now the memories shifted faster. All he saw was the slow misery he had endured for five more weeks. 
With a shudder, he came out of his trance-like coma. The thing stood over him, raising its weapon for another strike. He clenched his eyes shut, and awaited the final blow. It didn't come for another 3 days.
Category:Not Sure if Troll or Trying to Be Serious
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:The Title Is A Lie