Where The past Lies
By Claire Hastie
Prologue
It had sounded like an egg cracking open, except amplified between his ears. But it couldn’t be sticky egg yolk he’d felt running down his face, for he knew it was blood - his blood. He fought with the dense shrubbery as it whipped and lashed at his flailing limbs, fingers grasping, but nothing could stop him rolling further down the grassy verge. His head crashed into another loose rock, inducing the pain to a new excruciating level.
It seemed like a lifetime until his battered limbs came to a halt. He could now taste his blood as it engulfed his mouth, and at that second, he thought he might choke on it. In a desperate attempt he tried to lift his head, until an electrifying pain shot through the back of his skull and made its way down his spinal cord. He could feel the life draining from him as he lay staring up at a bloodied landscape
until his brain finally pulped the last of its memories. And that's when he saw her face one last time.
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