Liam's body became limp like a puppet as it was lifted off the ground by something attached to his lower back. In the burst of movement, Micah saw what could've been a long, gaunt limb protruding from the shrubbery behind the kid, like an arm with too many joints and too little meat. Only, instead of a hand at the end, it was Liam. Or something that was meant to look like Liam. Whatever held out that fake child lurched towards Micah, and every bone and inch of flesh in his body screamed at him. And so he listened, bolting before whatever it was pulled itself into the light.
"Let's go on an adventure!" shrieked the thing, its voice still mimicking the young boy's, but the noise split apart. Like a chorus of crows trying to imitate one person, all speaking at once.
Micah just ran, his heartbeat in his ears, tears of terror and exertion finding their own ways from his eyes. He ripped through shrubs and undergrowth, hearing the shrieks and calls of the thing just behind him as it chased him down. His mind flashed images of what it could have been, whatever his brain could do to picture what could possibly be there. He heard its wheezing breaths and smelt rotting fruit in the air.
Micah had never run so hard or so fast in his life, his legs starting to burn as he plummeted down the hill. His foot caught a root of a nearby tree, and he stumbled, nearly collapsing. Catching himself, he heard the crack of something behind him and deep, rasping breaths as the thing snapped a log or a tree with its weight. His legs felt like jelly, his chest felt full to bursting, and his throat was raw and burned with every breath. He had been screaming, yelling for help, and hadn't even noticed that he was. But he didn't stop.
"Let's go on an adventure!" it shrieked as it seemed to close the distance between them, its voice growing more discordant with every second. Ceaseless crunching and cracking echoed around Micah as it tore through the bushes and foliage to go straight to him.
Micah's head throbbed with pain, and his eyes felt on fire. Involuntary tears streamed down his face, his voice had died from the yelling, and he felt like he was going to collapse. Am I going to die? The sky began to warp and shift colours, the ground melted and reformed, and the trees grew and shrank. He saw new hues burst from the bark, swirl into the air and form stars in the midday sky. Sunlight became moonlight and back, swapping every second. The distance between trees expanded, and vibrant flowers burst from empty ground seeds, dying as fast as they were born. Micah had always heard that before death, the body can hallucinate, but he didn't imagine it to be so kaleidoscopic. He felt as his feet met stone, then carpet, then concrete, then soil, and more and more as it cycled over and over. All the while, the twisted wheezing rasps and discordant shrieks of the thing began to muffle, like he was sinking deeper and deeper underwater.
The shift slowed to a crawl, colours and shapes became less and less elastic. His footsteps thudded into damp soil once again, carrying him forward past gnarled trees that twisted in elaborate knots and thorned shrubs filled with frangipanis and jasmine. The sky swam still, filled with shades of blue and indigo dancing together as if painted by Van Gogh. Micah didn't slow down as he barrelled through, breathing heavily and deeply as he rasped for air. His gut wrenched, and his lungs burned. He felt lightheaded, blood rushing to his head like it was going to burst from his veins. All he could focus on was not falling. He ran through the wide gaps between the twisted trees, with only the sound of the wind, his breath, and his thundering footsteps on the turf. He didn't hear it after him anymore.
Rounding a thick, gnarled oak, he pressed his back against it, breathing heavy and deep. He wanted to fall over, to curl into a ball, but he didn't. He listened. He was right, the sound of the thing had stopped. Had he gotten away? He was so sure it was gaining on him. It was so close he could've sworn he felt the heat from its breath. And yet, trying not to pant too loudly, all he heard was the creaking of an old forest and the rustling of wind between leaves. The air felt alive with the silence, like a swarm of insects crawling down his back. He didn't trust it, not at all.
Micah blinked, looking around at the trees that surrounded him. Whatever part of the woods he had stumbled into in his escape was strange and vastly different from before. The trees were bulky and knotted, and the shrubbery was sparse but colourful and winding. It was so much less dense here, with everything spaced apart enough that he could run in a straight line and hit nothing. If the thing was still around, it would be so much harder to lose it this time. Assuming he lost it at all, and it wasn't waiting for him to get complicit before catching him. He peered around the trunk, carefully, his legs ready to propel him away at a moment's notice. He still didn't know what the thing looked like apart from its Liam-shaped lure. He still smelt the scent of rotting fruit on the wind, faint but strong enough to cause his stomach to churn. He scanned the trees, the bushes, the spaces between, and all that stood out were rays of amber sunlight breaking through the canopy. There's no way, did I really... His fears were confirmed as he heard it faintly, off in the distance, but still all too close.
"Let's go on an adventure!"
It didn't even try to disguise its voice much anymore. The sound of the young boy still existed under layers on layers of rasping, discordant echoes and creaking. He saw something large and amorphous move in the direction he had come from, but he couldn't get a good view. The giant silhouette moved barely out of sight among the trees, and the sound of its weight shifting in the soil and against the wood groaned all around him. Then the limp, swinging body of a little boy in a red shirt emerged from behind an oak, a long, thin arm holding it out like a fisherman. Micah wanted to burrow into the roots of his tree and hide, hoping it would lose interest or look somewhere else. Yet he dared not look away. Not when he knew where the thing was. The young body shook as he heard the creature inhale a long, shuddering breath, and it suddenly turned directly towards where Micah hid. His blood ran like ice through his veins, and his legs took off away from the thing.
"Let's go on an adventure!" it shrieked again, and the sounds of earth and plant being shoved aside or crushed by the mass of the thing rose into the air. Micah heard something beneath the sound of the thing gaining on him - the sound of running water. The roar of whatever it was approached him faster and faster. It was his only chance to get away. I hope it can't swim. Ripping past the trees, scrambling over exposed roots and around thorns, he heard it even clearer as he sprinted for his life. The sound of the blood pulsing through his skull or the shrieking of the hunter that closed in on him couldn't hide the river that came into view past the tree line. His legs carried him forward faster and faster, only barely keeping ahead of the thing behind him. The smell of rotting fruit, sweet and gut-wrenching, assaulted his mind. It screamed again, louder and closer than ever before. It could've reached out and grabbed him. It was probably about to.
Micah's feet left the ground as he launched himself into the ripping current of the river. It was an absolute Hail Mary. He could never have outrun it, but maybe the water could save him. As he entered the cold water, he realised how foolish he was. The current was far stronger than he expected, and he immediately lost his orientation. Pulled downwards and downstream, he was flipped, his head now under him as he was pulled along. A rock at the river's bottom cut a long gash on his temple, the blood mixing with the stream as he fought to get his head above. For a moment, he breached the surface for a single breath only to be pulled back under. He thrashed, every limb panicking. He might've escaped the thing chasing him, but he knew that he was no safer in the water. He felt himself gasp while below, and water rushed into his throat, and it burned like magma. His vision, clouded by bubbles and foam, began to grow darker as the pain in his head began to lessen. His heart pounded, his eyes flickered, trying to fight off the darkness, his lungs felt like they were on fire, and his arms tried so hard to find purchase, but found nothing but water. He tried so hard to get away, to live, to escape. To see his family again, safe and sound. And yet, there he was. His attempt to live was about to kill him. It felt so unfair.
The current suddenly vanished, the water impossibly still and calm in a single instant. Micah finally breached the surface, coughing and sputtering. His hand finally grasped the riverbed, and, with what little strength was left in his arms, he hauled himself out as he vomited water onto the gravel. After a moment to settle, his arms and lungs still smouldering, he looked back at the river. It ripped forward with the strength he knew, and yet a small circle of water was completely stagnant. It simply ceased moving just around where he ended up.
"You're incredibly stupid, you know," said a face that emerged from the rapids just past the circle of calm. Its face was angular and covered in silver scales, with rows of short, serrated teeth in a grinning mouth. Fins crowned its head like a lion's mane made of webbed skin, and its large, pitch-black eyes looked directly at him. The creature smirked, utterly unmoved by the raging river. "Even I know humans can't swim."