Running from No One

Note: What should I say...? This this isn't a story. It's just a tiny snippet, a scene that I'm writing.






A leap, a jump, soaring into the boundless never-ending blue: the raging wind pelted against her face. The wind’s razor edges were no zephyr of discontent—it hurt to take even a single breath. She forced herself. In, out, in out.Her braids whipped back in abstract dance as she landed on concrete ground. Against this tight wall made of air, she strove forward with some terrible single-minded intent.

They were coming.

It was foolish to wear white. She knew that now. Against the darkest backdrop of the night, her attire glowed. Streetlights and moonlights chased shadows across her visage. She ducked low to avoid a teetering branch, and grimaced as something pierced and scratched her cheek. Blood dripped onto her lips. She licked and ignored.

Whizzed by yet another briery bush; swerved to the left. She was entering uncharted territory. Her legs torn down the unfamiliar path, unwilling to give up even an inch of this hard-earned distance. Breath. In, out, in out. She dared not blink. They, hot on her heels, screeched their rallying cry. It might have been wordless, but the meaning was just as clear. Die.

They were getting nearer.

Their voices became a cacophony of nothingness. Meaningless. Her feet crunched down on rubbles and rocks. The last streetlight lay miles behind. Before her was the pathless forest, malignant branches and untried trails, her way lit by the rounded moon. A gasp, a breath, a blink, she faltered: a moment of hesitation. Momentum—she skidded forwards, unable to stop. Her hands grasped rough tree bark. She stumbled. Her legs buckled. Her knees dropped with dull thud. She fell, kneeling.

Silence.

The world was silent. Her ears rang. Her hands stung. Her knees ached. Sweat dripped form her brows. Now her eyes stung. She blinked and rasped for breath, her tortured lungs expanding to take everything in. Legs shook and arms trembled, and it was an uphill battle to pull her body back up. Crickets creaked and the moon sang its tuneless song. The world stilled. Fingertips brushed against the back of her neck and—

Still world exploded in luminous fireworks. They were here.

This is certainly a good start. Some of your imagery was really fresh; this was good to see.

You use way too many italics. They're distracting. Get rid of them: let the writing speak for itself.

Also, there's a mass of physical description. Great, but as a reader I didn't feel pulled into the action. Use more sensory imagery. Put us in the protagonist's shoes. What did it feel like to have an unseen enemy breathing down her neck? Could she hear anything? The relentless sounds of bullets? Screams? Explosions? What could she see?

You include several 'was/were' expressions as well:

"The world was silent."

This is telling. Try instead:

"The world fell silent."

You're some way towards achieving this, but now really SHOW us the experience from her POV. Eliminate or substitute as many was/were or passive verbs as you can.

I found a couple of spelling mistakes and missing articles that can be easily rectified. The main thing, however, is to show, not tell. Keep proofreading, editing and your style will eventually shine through. A great first attempt, well done!

6/10