The Long Tale No. 33 - Running

The sirens blasted as the man fell through the wretched streets. Rubbish was strewn everywhere and crimson stained the walls. A scream could be heard in the distance although what creature could make such a cry, the man was unsure. Tires screeched behind him and the sound of leather could be heard flapping through the crisp air. Flashes were all he could remember; flashes of red, white and black. Blood, paper and ink. Always blood, paper and ink. But what was he running from? The man wasn't sure but he knew that he couldn't stop. No matter what the cost.