The Fox

Kricket

Griff led Alisdair and I back into the office.

"I thought there was nothing in here," Alisdair said.

"There's plenty of junk in here to open the hole," Griff said. He let go of my hand and grabbed one of the heavy shelf boards.

Alisdair and I began to pulll apart the room, looking for anything heavy enough to open the hole. I was beginning to tear apart an office chair when I thought I heard someone screaming.

"Is that... Casey?" I asked after hearing another short scream.

Flea

"Dan!" That was no scream of anger. That was a scream of fear, the kind that meant pain and death... He turned on his heel, sprinting back to the room.

Casey was strapped onto a conveyor belt with what looked like seatbelts, slowly chugging its way to two rollers, before going into a punching press. He felt an urge to laugh; it was like something out of a parody of a comic book. But this was no laughing matter.

"Hold on!" he shouted, looking around for something, anything. Nothing. The Fox had cleared the room. He's good. He dug into his pockets, wondering if there was something in there-

"Theo, you know, my ex-boyfriend, he's got absinthe. You are going to sneak into his house-"

"What?"

"You are going to sneak into his house, and fill this bottle from that bottle. It's glass, so be careful, you little nerdy weirdo."

"Yes, ma'am."

He closed his eyes, feeling the little bottle. He knew that it was hard to break any bottle, which always ended up with a hand full of broken glass. This was no time for learning how to do it.

He smashed the bottle on the edge of the conveyor belt, letting shards of glass shatter through the glass. That didn't matter. He needed a big one, like that one. He picked up the triangle, and began to step along with the conveyor belt, rubbing the edge along the seatbelts.

Casey

"Dan you came!" Casey shouted when Fle appeared next to her. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and tried to control her heart rate.

"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't let my best friend die."

Die. That meant the conveyor belt definitely didn't lead toward something good. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know what she was bound for. If Flea didn't cut her out in time, then she wanted to die quickly and as painlessly as possible. Worrying wouldn't help that.

"Hurry," she told him.

come on guys, post *begs* let's get through this!

This looks like another dying storybook. May I end it's misery?

Something had suddenly hit the Fox. It hit him like the sting of a stealthy scorpion crawling through the desert sand. He didn't even hear its legs disturb a single grain of sand as it approached. The Fox had had the venom of regret surge through his veins. He shook with an emotion that he did not know he possessed.

But, it had been lying dormant in the darkest crevice of his mind. It was only too afraid to get out of the shadow that it was hiding in. But now that it had revealed it's ghostly pale face, the Fox could not help but see the atrocities that he had committed through different eyes.

The Fox left his ways behind, along with his home, if that was what he could call it. He did not know where he would go. All he knew was that he had changed. Like a barren tree that had been glazed over with ice in the black of winter he had sprouted flowers of compassion when the season of spring came into his life. Deep in his heart the Fox knew a new beginning had begun. But, he also knew that it was

THE END