• Run.That's all I thought. I quickly looked over my shoulder, which I regret. I saw IT turn the street corner. I ran faster. I grabbed the two revolvers hanging at my side, and emptied the barrels and put them back.the chances I'd hit IT, were 75% a no hit. The bullets obviously missed the target, because if it hit, I'd have known. In a last attempt toward freedom, I crouched down, preparing my bloody wings for a painfull flight. About two feet in the air, my freedom break was shortened by a hand of pure light grabbing my dark bony leg. On my fall, my face smashed into something hard. The last thing I saw was ITs fading face.