Avory: A Short Story

howl.

Not just any howl.

No...

A heart-wrenching agonized howl rang through the air, screeching its one last wail of anguish as its life excruciatingly seizes itself away from its body. Faintly hearing the tremendous drop of the dead, Avory's heart once again wrenches itself out of its thwarting hold. Venomously harming the outside of her chest, her organ splutters and painfully squeezes against the walls of skin achingly suffocating it.

Another one is dead.

One more family member's life unrightfully taken away from itself, and it is her entire fault.

They're after her. Those animals will go to great lengths to get what they want, and when they want something, they will get it. Those power-hungry beasts will bring damage to innocents just

As much as she dislikes it, she can't help but feel the burning gazes of the bystanders left behind. As all the chatter has died down, the only thing that is left is the pounding unanswered questions aimlessly swirling around in the population's heads. She can tell that they're all indiscriminately rasping about mindless perspectives as to why this bloodied, grime-covered and dangerously held stranger is precariously dragging herself into this established town. Curiosity, as well as dread and fear washes off them as they watch her pass by each and every one of them, heading directly to the end of the road. Avory doesn't blame them. If she were in their position, she would also feel these things if she were to catch an unfortunate glimpse of an animalistic-like dirty human being covered in leaves and mud stagger into the home she'd accommodated herself with. She expediently looks as if she were to be classed as the number one most wanted criminal in the United States of America, assumably labelled as a mentally insane patient belonging to the institution responsible for caging the

Avory reluctantly manages to push herself into the plain and snug little motel, which is intentionally inviting those without a place to stay at straight through the door, just as she did. Ignoring the little standby auburn couches and the dissipation of the tiny and distraught CRT television aiming to entertain, Avory treads undeviatingly towards the little ochre counter top used as what she assumes to be a front desk. From what she can see, the older lady is inattentively slouching down atop the uncomfortable looking Dante chair, with a bit of saliva dribbling down her mouth, as well as one piece of an earphone sticking into her ear while the other is aimlessly crumpled atop the tight little work clothes that she has worn. The apathetic woman has an argent pink iPod resting at her left thigh, indicating that she is listening to some sort of sound. An observation is not needed for Avory, as she can clearly overhear the cringe worthy hardcore music shrieking out of the abhorrent little devil acting as a music player. Although she do not show it, Avory clandestinely just wants to rip apart and destroy every bit of that bloodcurdling music device and shove it right upon the owners horrific face, and as much as her beast and her needs to, she proudly controls herself before she ends up doing much more than