My story, chapter 2.

I cautiously followed the mysterious trodden pathway, not knowing what was to come. I heard heavy panting and the rustling of leaves. I pushed some thick foliage to the side to reveal a tanned man with broad shoulders and a shovel in his hand. He was digging a deep hole in the ground. His brow dripped with sweat. His white tank top was filthy with dirt and… blood? I ducked lower behind the great big bush, and slowly retrieved my phone from my pocket. I clicked on ‘camera application’ and took several photos of the man, the hole, the shovel, ect. This would be a good story for the schools newspaper of which I was head journalist. I wondered if this was suicide. This man was clearly injured; maybe he was planning on burying himself? The thought of it made me shiver. I wondered if I should help him. If I should stride out from behind the branches and simply ask him of his business? I should have, but I was too scared. I continued to take pictures, any evidence would be valid. Through the camera lense I saw a face. Not his, another. Eyes wide open, starring at me, screaming for help. He was lying on the floor with his hand lying my way as if reaching out for me. His bare chest visible, with multiple stab wounds in the heart area. I gasped. I felt the hard stare. I looked up over my phone and saw the murder in his eyes. The dead man lay motionless except a trickle of blood that ran down his cheek from his eye, like a tear. His mouth was dislocated and slanted but somehow he whispered to me. He whispered but one word. ‘Run’.  I froze. The murderer began to stride calmly my way, calmly but with pace. I took a few more hurried snaps then ran. I ran, for my life.  I was never good at sports, but this was one race I really needed to win. I could hear the angry grunts from behind me. The heavy footsteps. The murderous thoughts. I was running so fast I couldn't concentrate on my surroundings. I failed to see a sturdy thorn branch before me, and tripped up and over, landing flat on my face. I scraped at the ground, digging in my fingernails, trying with all my might to get up. My ankle was stuck in some rocks that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I tried to move. I was really restrained. Something sharp cut deep into the bottom of my foot. I could feel the cool blood pour down the sole of my foot. The pain was unbearable. All I could think of was sharing an earthly tomb with a dead stranger who somehow secretly warned me. I shook so violently the leaves around me quaked. I felt two heavy boots meet. I turned and squinted through tears to see the man, poised with the shovel high and ready to kill. He was dirty and covered in blood. Murder written on his face in dark red ink. I pleaded silently. ‘I won’t tell anyone’ I wept. ‘I promise, I- I never even saw anything!’ I babbled on, trying my absolute best, but he ignored the pleas. He raised the shovel with a firm hand and a strong arm. I closed my eyes. ‘This is it’ was the only thought in my head. He was just about to swing when…  ‘EMMA!’. I heard Mr. Harley yell. ‘EMMA! I swear you’re in BIG trouble, young lady!’ he exclaimed. The murder that stood before me grunted. He looked scornfully, with a threat in his eyes. He dropped the shovel at his feet and scarpered. I sighed in heavy relief. I was so grateful. Mr. H. burst through a bunch of leaves, his eyes bulging with anger. He saw me lying, and realised I was in pain. His faced softened as he helped me up. He slowly lifted the huge rocks that were restricting my foot. I cried and cried, tears pouring from my eyes. ‘If you hadn’t had been skiving off my lesson you wouldn’t have got in this trouble now, would you?’ He scowled. I was gasping for breath confused, relieved, shocked. I tried to explain but I was so shocked I couldn’t speak.