Friday, September 18, 2015

100 Words a Day 698

I bent down until the cold marsh water soaked the front of my shirt. The reeds blew in the soft wind and the beeping drew nearer. This is the closest the robots had come to catching me since they started chasing me several days ago. They weren’t as slowed by the swamp as I had expected, and had actually made up a lot of ground on me since I entered the fetid place.

The beeping kept coming closer. I was sure they had discovered my hiding place. I slowly slid my knife from my belt. Then the beeping went silent.

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