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It was a hot summer evening, six years ago, and me and my friends were playing a game we called "The Hunger Games". The rules were pretty simple, enough for 12 yearolds to understand. The rules were that you tagged someone to kill them, though you needed a weapon to do so. The weapons included sticks, Nerf swords, and other various items. Weapons were located in the middle of the front yard, though you had to be fast to get them, considering most people grabbed as many as they could, them being light weight and all.

Once you were tagged, and thus "dead" you had to sit on the front porch, waiting for a new round to start. Once the game started, I ran like hell. I never really fought, regardless of my height advantage over practically all of them, being 5'7 at 12. is quite a feat. But, as large as I was, I was also a fantastic runner, who would go on to get second in state at the 100m sprint. One of my best friends, whose name was Jake, was right on my heels, with a large pool noodle. I eventually turned into a corner, and dived into the bushes, hiding there until he lost interest. Eventually, I was caught and killed, and so I waited for the next round. By the end of this round, I was bruised and tired from climbing a tall tree to escape my friend Elliot. After he had left, I looked around to make certain no-one was near me, and after climbing to a safe height, I leaped out of the tree. I listened again, making sure no-one was there. (I was a cautious child, looking back on it.)

Anyway, after this I ran into an alley way, knowing that not to far past this alley way, there was an abandoned house. I knew nobody would dare to go in, it being rumored to be haunted, and all. I knew this was utter nonsense, and so I decided to go inside. Well, I entered the garage, the lock on the house made it far to difficult to enter, and the garage door was already banged up, so it was easy for me to slip inside. After stepping in, I entered the house through the side door, and was instantly hit by the disgusting musty moldy air. I looked around the ugly room, noticing the disgusting green wall-paper cracking away to reveal a sickly grey painted wall, which looked like it had had termites in the past. No wonder no-one lived here. I stepped into the main room, the red brick walls (some of which had certain bricks sticking out, revealing jagged endings.) were covered in Ivy and vines, but, actually, it gave them a nice look.

I heard a rustle and instinctively called out "Who's there?" After no one had answered me, I took a few steps and called out again, this time saying "I promise I won't hurt you!" I suddenly heard a chuckle behind me, and a masculine voice said "No, but I'll hurt you!" (To this day, I can't get over how cheesy that instance was.)

I spun around, so he would be in my vision, and I was 'greeted' by a tall man, looking around the age of forty, ironically, he was dressed rather nicely. Not that that phased me, I very quickly dug around in my pocket until I found my pocket knife. He laughed, and launched towards me (Beetles, toads, bats.) I had already opened the knife, and so it at his face. He fell to the ground screaming, (well, screaming some nasty names) Obviously, I ran away very quickly. His last words that I heard were "You wait! No matter how fast you run, I'll come and I'll get you!"

I don't know why I didn't finish him off, or why I still haven't reported this incident to the police, or, even tell my damn parents or a friend. There have been some missing children around here recently, and, the drawing of the suspect is a pretty good match up. I think that my fears are much more rational now, and it's hard for me to sleep again. I saw him at the market, or, at least I think I did. He simply smiled and waved. I believe, that one day, he WILL find me, and he WILL kill me, or, die trying. 

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