A family race

When the starting gun rang out on the lonely racetrack, everyone in the crowd leapt like deer in the presence of a hunter. All except John, who with adrenaline pumping through his veins was running with the agility and speed of a wolf going after tender, juicy prey, ready to overtake the nearest of his competitors.

He felt the blood rushing through him from head to toe.

His heart raced in his chest, when he ran like that before that night, he felt like he was dying. The air was short of breath and his lungs burned as if he had burning coals in them.

But now on that run. He had never felt so alive.

With a total of seven people scattered around this particular track, John knew that in reality there were only eight competitors, for he was not competing, the certainty of victory was his, he had only decided to challenge himself on this particular occasion.

Less than a mile away the choked breath and a familiar disheveled ponytail greeted him. His first opponent barely had time to let out a gasp of surprise before she was far behind John. When he passed her by a few inches, he decided to slow down for a few seconds. His calf muscles felt stiff and sore, but the sweet taste of a first victory drove him to keep going harder than ever.

The blonde curly haired woman in a gallant cocktail dress overtook him for a few moments. Although she was running in heels, he had never seen anyone run like that.

"Quite a choice of clothes for a race. Style comes first," he said to himself.

As he overtook her quite easily leaving her behind. John swore he heard an aftershock of the starting gun.

His mind wanted to give him the strength to have the same momentum he felt at the start of the race.

With a total of eight people scattered around this particular track, John knew that in reality there were only seven competitors, for he was not competing, the certainty of victory was his, he had only decided to challenge himself on this particular occasion.

Less than a mile away the choked breath and a familiar disheveled ponytail greeted him. His first opponent barely had time to let out a gasp of surprise before she was far behind John. Closer... Just a little closer. And at that moment it was as if an aftershock of the starting shot was ringing in his ears, as if the world was celebrating the first of his victories.

When he passed her by a few centimeters he decided to slow down for a few seconds. His calf muscles felt stiff and sore, but the sweet taste of a first victory drove him to continue on his way with more strength than ever.

Soon he saw a man only slightly older than him, wearing a three-piece suit and a now loose tie to match.

“Please, brother... Just give me a moment...”

The plea of the panting fellow leaning against a tree was greedily ignored. The glorious sound replayed in his mind again as he left his opponent defeated leaning back against that old tree.

Next up was his favorite contestant. His grandmother Greta. She had her hair in a high updo that was now matted, she wanted to run as much as she could, but like him, she had inherited his initial weakness in running. Now she was trying to run as much as she could. But the effort had overcome her and now she was bent over like the branch of an old tree. Her high heels had been forgotten inches back. Which, like breadcrumbs, had guided her into the bushes behind which she had stopped to rest, trying to buy herself a few more minutes before she was overtaken.

The melodious rustling kept her company as she left behind her surrendered grandmother in her lustrous satin gown marred by mud.

She supposed it had been partly her fault for not announcing to her beloved relatives her intentions to organize this impromptu race in the confines of her property when she had decided to invite them. Perhaps, had he said so, they would all have been spared the effort of going toe” to” toe and ruining their only good outfits.

He supposed that if he had told them the nature of the meeting they would not have come. But at least I thought it would have been more interesting if they had running shoes and such. It would have made the race more interesting. He was wearing his running shoes and the knee-length black coat that covered him from the bone” chilling cold.

There was someone else present during his long” for the defeat of Grandma. For as he turned away, he heard the muffled cry of his dear cousin, who, taking advantage of the cover of night, had hoped to remain very still and unnoticed. But she gave herself away when she noticed the nearness of her relative.

For her in particular he had mixed feelings. Even though the times when they had to live together frequently were long gone, she still had long memories of long afternoons spent playing while their respective mothers did the laundry in the only house with running water.

“It's been a long time, little cousin,” he said with a big smile. He stood very still as he giggled and giggled. “Come on, let's play, like when we were kids!”

His cousin shrieked in horror as she chased. Her body moved morbidly. She had never thought that her dear cousin so willing to show off her most attractive body to be fucked by the first man she would meet would now move outrageously in a disastrous way. Her arms flailed as she squealed. She was trying to run but was looking backwards twisting her neck like a circus sideshow. As she cried and pleaded. He was getting closer and closer. He was undecided whether he should go around her from behind and put the gun to her head or to her mouth, where only perfidious words were coming out of it. Or if it would be better to shoot him in the back while his eyes were focused on his gun.

Finally, she decided to confront him directly. With the same smile, she had looked at him with the day she had pushed his small body against the cabinet with mirrors on the doors and made one of them explode from the collision with her head.

Their eyes met and their breaths collided, but now only anguished gasps came out instead of that childish laughter. John took his time to rest the barrel of the gun on her chest, at the very spot where she placed her feet to propel him against the cupboard in punishment for taking a small doll. The sound of the gunshot and the ghost of Lao's broken glass falling on his head seemed to merge in his ears as the body fell with a dull thud to the floor.

A scream, from her uncle pierced her soul. It was her cousin's father.

Uncle Fred.

“You bastard, you're a bastard!

Fred was still in his plaid jumper and white shirt. His hair was greying. Seeing his daughter like that, he wanted to rush at him. But when she saw how he was aiming at her without any hesitation. His face cringed.

“You already have my daughter... No..." John sighed.

John sighed. How sick would he have to be to want to fight him at first, but when he saw that he had been holding the gun in front of him, he would have preferred to run away?

“You're a fucking coward. Fred.

Then he shot him in the right leg. Fred screamed in pain as he fell to the ground. His leg was bleeding deeply while his knee had shattered into a thousand pieces. He screamed as Fred stood in front of him.

“Crawl like the dog you are. Come on. If you can get past me, I'll forgive you.

He well knew that such a thing would be impossible. The entire wooded area that belonged to his property was fenced off by a high wall of electrified wire put up, especially for this competition. So, if Uncle Fred did not eventually die from exposure to the elements it would not be so difficult for him to return to finish the job at another time. For now, he had the bullets counted in the drum of his revolver. And he wanted to enjoy watching that chubby little fellow wriggling around in the dirt like the earthworm he was.

He decided to leave it there and go on to the next one.

There was one still running. She was crying, but trying to ignore everything around her and keep running. He still had his smartwatch on his arm. The watch was completely broken on the screen as it had fallen off the table unconscious and shattered into pieces.

Still, her poor Aunt Hannah, who could never tear herself away from her phone to gossip, was clinging to the fact that the little device was going to save her.

She tried every way she could to get it to turn on. But there was no response. She cried and despaired as she tried to get it to react.

Her beloved cousin Lauren's mother, Fred's wife and Grandma Greta's favorite daughter were running with all the desperation of a survivor who hadn't minded leaving her husband and daughter behind to reach the precious finish line.

The rules were easy. The entire forest behind their property, which they had reached once the sedative in their plates had taken effect, was their race track. They could run in any direction, but only the one who made it to the proverbial finish line, which was the small gate at some point, any point, in the trellis, would live. And since the first shot went off, leaving him with only one bullet for each member of the family, Aunt Hannah hadn't stopped running even to look back for a second.

She decided it would be best to shoot him in the arm with the watch. And so, from a distance, he shot her. She screamed as the blood gushed out. He was a few feet from the gate of the fence and she was screaming in pain. John approached her slowly and slowly got in front of her and squatted down on his knees.

“You're too close now. So, I can make a deal with you, dear aunt. See over there? “He said as his aunt whimpered. Taking her face and forcing her eyes in the direction of her husband.

Still several feet away was that despicable worm, Fred. Who hadn't even been able to stand up on his one sound foot to at least try to make it with some dignity. Instead, he had preferred to crawl along like the crawling, living parasite that he was.

“There goes your dear husband. Sure, it's not like you loved him very much, but he was still the "big lawyer," wasn't he?

Aunt Hannah shook her head repeatedly.

“Don't make me choose whether he lives or dies.

John smiled as he looked at Hannah's mangled arm, which had begun to turn pale.

“Oh no, nothing like that. You're just going to help me choose who the winner of the race is. Look at him go; he's almost caught up. But let's be fair, it's not like the primary school competitions anymore where everyone gets a prize or else, they'll cry. Only one can be the winner. So, tell me, auntie, dear. Your arm is bleeding a lot, if you don't go to a hospital soon, you'll be dry as a sheet. But look at him, from here I can see his lips are turning blue, if he doesn't go to the hospital soon, he's still going to die. So, you have little time, tell me, who is going to be the lucky winner?

I didn't even have to wait for an answer, for, as I had anticipated, Aunt Hannah didn't falter for a moment before running with what little strength she had left to her towards the door framed with bright orange reflective tape.

Behind the pitiful spectacle, Uncle Fred stopped his pitiful shuffling as he watched his wife run without a backward glance. Maybe somewhere in the back of his deluded head, he thought that thirty” five years of marriage and a life of luxury had bought him at least a little space in the cold, dry heart of that skinny bitch.

John took just a few seconds to appreciate the "touching" scene before he grabbed a thick branch that conveniently waited near his grasp and barred Hanna's wire legs.

Hannah fell to her knees in a scream as Fred crawled over to his beloved wife, I watched the spectacle as Fred shouted at her between whimpers about how she could have wanted to run away, she cried as she wanted to get closer to the goal as he stopped her, I decided that she was the one who had to die. Each of them had already been shot, and I decided that letting time take care of killing them was too boring. So, with the branch that had a slightly pointed tip for a thorn, I decided that would be optimal. I then reached behind her and took her neck in my hands, as I pressed against it while Fred looked on in disbelief, she opened her mouth looking for a breath. It was the perfect moment to take the branch by the pointed end and insert it into her mouth, as she made a gagging sound, I pushed it into her pharynx as she squirmed, and she began to suffocate. Fred was sobbing, even though that bitch had chosen him over him, he was pleading, she was still choking, trying to cling to me, but finally between whimpers and spasms, I had cut off her breath.

Still breathing hard and his leg muscles stiff and sore John took a moment to appreciate his victory. Stubborn bubbles of air continued to rise around the branch, refusing to leave the almost inert body.

While that pathetic attempt at a husband... well... he was a point apart.

Well, he was a point apart. From the way the blood was pouring out of his wounded leg, it was obvious that he had pierced the femoral artery. Maybe not completely, but the movement certainly finished the job. He wouldn't even have to stay to complete the job.

How sweet the irony. Fred would die for the same indifference with which he allowed years of beatings, insults and mistreatment to kill John bit by bit.

They both fell side by side. And then he looked at his handiwork, he had been victorious over them all, as he wondered whether to bury them or use them as compost to nourish the lush trees of the forest, he sighed. That would be for another day, the night was young and surely the dinner they had prepared in celebration of their timely new fortune would still be half” hot. Smiling and humming a merry ballad, he limped back to t