What is this? I don't know. I wanted to write at 2:45am and so i did. Inspiration? no clue. I wrote this on phone without autocorrect so there are probably errors. You can write on from this if you want to i don't mind.

The leaves shattered under his legs as he ran through the forest. The sun taunting him and the trees shadowing him as he desperately tried to escape. He knew that he would eventually end up dying on the forest floor, his blood soaking into the grass and dying everything around him into and bright red. He still tried though. He still tried to escape. To get back home and see them again. He tried, tried, tried, tried, tried, tried, tried and tried.

Still, he knew what would happen and the little hope he had left was gone when his legs gave out below him. The boy tumbled to the ground, to the floor of where he would die, of where his mangled body would be found by a relative, a friend or a stranger. He knew that soon he would be free of this despair filled world.  He knew that someday he would see them again in whatever afterlife there is. He knew that one day he will be forgotten. He knew he would never be written as a hero in the history books in the libraries. He knew that it would be them that would go down in history because he believed in them. He knew that they would live on without him. He knew they would forget about him.

He knew

and he was always right.