Run Faster

A short story inspired by a Founding Level subscriber

My good friend Carrie has been a supporter of my work since I first started writing stories more than a decade ago. She was one of the first subscribers to Only Child Originals and not only that, she took out a Founding Level subscription, which may have made me cry happy tears.

In fact, it was her encouragement that inspired me to get on Substack in the first place and put my first serialized novel out on the platform. For all that, I seriously can’t say thank you enough. But I can and did write a story for her as part of her Founding Level subscriber reward.

So what did Carrie request? Here’s an…ahem…rundown before we get to the story.

Genre: Horror

Setting: Large, underground stormwater tunnel (She’s a wastewater engineer! And on that note: any errors or exaggerations of the stormwater systems in this story are entirely my own and in service to the narrative.)

Premise: Cross country team involved in satanic rituals (We ran cross country together in high school!)

Special request: Everyone dies, but it seems like the main character might make it out alive.

So this one’s for Carrie! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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Carla was fast. A born runner.

She was also smart, ambitious, and strikingly beautiful.

But while she was satisfied with her brains and looks, speed was her drug, and she wanted more.

She’d already broken all of her high school’s records, smashed through her own personal best, and won regionals easily, catapulting her cross country team to the state championship.

Her feet devoured 3.1 miles. Lungs burning, legs on fire, her skin flush with the chase, she crossed each finish line hungering for more.

After hours spent on the trail, speed work, core work, and hill training, she’d perfected her stride and sculpted herself into the perfect picture of a runner: lithe, light, strong, fierce. Midfoot strike, powerful pushoff. Smooth and steady cadence. Arm movements efficient, fingers and face loose. Breath pulled deep.

And yet.

She might have been the best in her school, in her region. But in the state? Carla had to admit that there were others that might be able to beat her. And that just wouldn’t do. Not with the championship coming up in days. Not when there’d be college recruiters in the crowd. Not when there would be scholarships on the line. Not when she had a reputation to uphold.

“How much farther?”

“We’re almost there,” Carla growled. They hadn’t even been going that long. She hated whiners. Unfortunately, her five teammates were inveterate complainers. She barely tolerated them under normal circumstances. Underground, under stress, and in the dark, their presence was almost unbearable. If she didn’t need them to complete the summoning, she would have come alone.

“You never told us we’d be in the sewers.”

“It’s a stromwater tunnel, not a sewer. Now stop talking.”

Carla led them on through the network of underground tunnels that ran below their neighborhood. They strode past the underside of drains, glimpses of streetlights adding a phosporescent glow to the yellow of their flashlight beams.

“We’re like freaking Pennywise,” one of them said, false cheer covering a tremble in their voice. “Want your boat, Georgie?”

“Oh my god, stop!” said another, a nervous giggle echoing down the tunnel. “I cannot think of that movie right now. Seriously!”

“Quiet,” Carla hissed. “I need to concentrate.”

Because although she had studied the map carefully before they left, she didn’t want to miss a turn. Their city’s drainage system was extensive. One wrong move and they could wind up in the lake.

“Maaaaaaa.”

My god, if it wasn’t her teammates making a fuss, it was the goat.

“What’s the goat for again?”

“Luck,” Carla said.

“I was thinking it was some kind of ‘greatest of all time’ reference.”

“Sure,” Carla murmured.

Truth was, Carla would tell them anything at this point just to keep them moving forward. It’d taken quite a bit of convincing as it was to get them all down here in the first place. There’d been a lot of appeals to forgotten traditions and team building. She’d called in favors, made promises, and, in one girl’s case, threatened to expose some private information on her socials. She wasn’t above blackmail to get this done.

They slogged on for another quarter of an hour, making their way deeper underground along the sloping tunnel until it opened up into a large vault designed to hold stormwater overflow on especially rainy days.

Luckily, for Carla’s purposes, they hadn’t had a steady rain yet, let alone a sustained downpour, so the space was empty save for a small stream running through the middle and out through the tunnel on the far side of the room.

“This is it.” Carla unslung the pack from her back, retrieving a set of candles, matches, and chalk. From her back pocket, she drew out the notebook where she had carefully copied the diagram she’d found in a book purchased from some shady antique book dealer online.

She used the chalk to sketch out a circle and intricate runes on the floor.

“How much longer is this going to take?”

“I don’t have any cell reception down here. My mom is going to start freaking out if I’m not home by ten.”

Carla rolled her eyes. Idiots.

“Relax,” she said. “You want this done right, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Honestly, I thought we were just having a silly ceremony-type thing. You know, like when fraternities have initiation nights, just without, like, the binge drinking and toxic hazing rituals.”

“Maaaaaaa,” said the goat.

“Ridiculous,” Carla said under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she continued, “just stand on each of the runes I’ve drawn on the edge of the circle, and hand me the goat.”

Far too slowly for Carla’s taste, her teammates made their way to their designated spots. She took a moment to admire her handiwork: a near-perfect circle, elegant runes, glowing candles, and the water from the storm drain running through at just the right angle.

They were alone, ensconced by sturdy walls and darkness. No prying eyes, no pings or texts. The vault had been a stroke of genius.

“It’s time,” Carla said, her voice echoing through the vault.

“Maaaaaaa,” said the goat.

Carla intoned the words she’d carefully memorized in a long-dead language. Then she drew out the knife tucked in the waistband of her jeans and ran it with surprising ease across the goat’s neck.

It let out a strangled cry that dwindled to nothing as bright red blood spilled onto the floor, flooding the circle she’d drawn and mixing with the water as it flowed by.

Her teammates screamed. A few shouted panicked, expletive-filled questions about the state of her mind. One of them tried to back away but found she was held in place atop the rune she’d chosen.

Carla didn’t answer them. There was no reason to. Everything would become clear in just a few moments.

The circle began to glow and the blood in the water turned black, coalescing into a figure that seemed to bloom from the stream, rivulets of water dripping down twisted sinew and cords of muscle.

Giant antlers spread from its head, branching into silvery prongs meant for skewering. Jagged teeth set higgledy-piggledy into a narrow snout snapped together as it stretched its jaw. Slowly, the thing scanned the perimeter of the circle until its amber eyes locked onto Carla.

“Speak.”

Its voice was quiet, ominous. Even Carla felt a chill run up her spine. But she managed to collect herself. She was on a mission. She couldn’t let fear distract her now. Not after she’d come so far.

“Lord of Victory,” Carla said, her voice dying on the dense air surrounding the thing in the circle. “I have made a sacrifice in your name. And these witnesses,” Carla swung her hand out in a half-circle, indicating her teammates, “stand ready to cower to your greatness and to carry out further sacrifices in your honor.”

One of Carla’s teammates tried to protest, but the rune beneath her shone brighter against the dark, and she threw her hands up, clawing at her throat as though an invisible rope were wrapped around it.

“And I am here to beg for your intercession,” Carla continued. “I wish to commit feats of athleticism in your name. To bring you glory. To swell your power with pride. In exchange, send me speed, gift me fleetness. Make me the victor of every race!”

Carla felt pleased with the way the words had landed. She’d practiced what she was going to say for days, agonizing over the cadence and content. She waited now, hoping it would be enough.

Moments passed in silent tension while the creature stared at her with undisguised hunger, until the smallest of smirks lifted its tumescent lips.

“Foolish,” it said, and Carla felt the word like a punch to the gut. “You have no idea what you have called upon today. Whole civilizations worshipped me. Temples were raised in my name. Sacrifices laid at my feet by the thousands. I am powerful. I am eternal. But I am not the Lord of Victory.”

Carla swallowed. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Look at your face,” the demon sneered. “You truly thought you understood what you’re dealing with. Pathetic. Heedless. A girl so full of hubris and envy, there’s little room for sense.”

“Who-who are you?” Carla managed.

“I am a demon, girl. The Demon of Rivalry. You did it all wrong. You needed true believers, laurel wreaths, fire, and a fatted calf at the very least.”

The Demon of Rivalry seemed to grow taller as it spoke so that it filled the entire vault with its twisted flesh and razor-edged teeth.

“Instead, what did you do?” it continued. “A goat? Water, witnesses? Goats butt heads. Water is precious, a resource to be hoarded. And these,” it scanned the girls assembled around the circle, a sneer on its face. “You may call them teammates, but you know and they know they’re all your competitors.”

Carla swallowed hard. The demon wasn’t wrong. And maybe she’d been a little overconfident, a little rash in summoning a demon when she had no real idea what she was doing. But the thing before her was clearly powerful. Carla didn’t see why she should let an opportunity go to waste. She paused. Gathered her thoughts. She had to get this right.

“I’ve made a mistake, Demon,” she said, “and for that I humbly apologize. But isn’t it true that great victories are often spawned from great rivalries?”

The demon cocked its head at her. Carla took this as a sign of interest and forged on.

“You’re right, my efforts here are nothing compared to what’s been done in your name over the centuries. But why not take advantage of my error? When’s the last time you were entertained? When’s the last time you felt truly alive? When’s the last time you exercised your power?”

The Demon of Rivalry stared at her, it’s eyes full of malice and discord. Carla felt her knees buckle, but she held her ground.

“And what do you get out this?” the demon asked.

“Only what I asked for already. I want to crush my opponents, annihilate them. I want to feel my heart pound, feel my lungs catch fire, and my feet fly. I want to run faster. So fast, there’s only me at the moment it counts the most.”

The beast smiled then, a true and terrible grin that made Carla’s blood run cold. She looked down at her sneaker-clad feet so she wouldn’t have to feel its gaze or see its awful mouth.

“May it be so,” it said.

Carla risked glancing up and was rewarded with another shudder down her spine. The demon was somehow far worse to behold now that it was pleased.

“Re-really?” she managed.

The demon nodded.

“That’s it?”

This time the demon shook its head. “No, child. No.”

It smiled, a twisted gash in its awful, lupine face.

“Now. You. Must. Run.”

Carla’s heart screamed at her to move, but her mind held her still like prey before a predator. The demon leaned closer to her and pressed its lips to her ear.

“Run.”

The word unlocked something in her brain, a deep-seated survival instinct, and Carla started to back away, keeping her eyes locked on the demon.

“Run, all of you,” the thing boomed. And the runes keeping her teammates in place seemed to release their hold. Four of them needed no further encouragement. They sprinted past Carla, jostling her shoulder as they fled into the tunnel on the far side of the vault.

But the last girl stood rooted to the spot, a wet stain spreading across the front of her pants. The demon stared at the girl, a bemused expression on its nightmare face. Then it unhinged its jaw and snapped its teeth around the girl’s head.

Carla didn’t wait to see more. She turned, careering into the narrow tunnel, following in the footsteps of the others.

She could hear their panicked screams and frantic footfalls slapping into the trickle of water, could see the weak beams of their flashlights jagging up and down on the curved walls.

Behind her, the demon surged forward, its massive body blocking the light from the glowing circle as it entered the tunnel close behind her.

Just ahead of Carla, one of her teammates stumbled sideways, their ankle making a sickening crack as they slammed into the floor, screaming in agony.

“Help me, please!” they called out. Carla only increased her pace, leaping over their outstretched hands.

Breath coming hard and fast, she flew through the tunnel until it opened up into another vault. Ahead of her, the other girls had already started up a massive ramp that twisted around a central shaft like a corkscrew. A steady stream of water flowed down from the surface, and they struggled forward, fighting against the current.

Carla glanced up. She could just see the top of the ramp and a glimpse of the night sky. If she could make it out, maybe she could find help. And she thought, darkly, if she stayed ahead of her teammates, the beast would get to them first.

It might be enough to keep her alive.

Once again, she increased her pace, gaining on the girls ahead of her. The beast slammed through the tunnel wall, breaking pieces off the sides as it shouldered its way forward.

Carla easily caught her first teammate as she rounded the second turn of the ramp, leaving them to struggle forward, feet and legs soaked with water that weighed them down.

The snap and crunch of bones followed Carla around another two turns.

Only a little farther.

She passed another teammate. They grabbed for Carla’s shirt, but Carla tore their fingers away from the fabric with a violent downward thrust that sent them tumbling to the ramp’s surface. Out of the corner of her eye, Carla saw the massive clawed hand of the demon pull her screaming teammate down, wrenching her backward.

Another turn, and she drew even with the last girl. They threw harried glances at each other, then over their shoulders. Carla winced. The demon was there.

Right. There.

She felt a breath of air on her back as the demon swung out with grasping fingers. It just missed her but managed to sweep her teammate’s feet out from under her. She hit the ramp hard, and the beast was on her in a second, tearing flesh and breaking bone.

One more turn.

Carla could do it.

Her heart pounded.

Her lungs caught fire.

Her feet flew.

She was almost there.

Run, faster.

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Looking for more tales fresh from the witch’s oven? Check out my other dark fantasy and horror stories here, including my fearsome foodie tale, Special Sauce, and the Lunar Awards winner, The Echo of Gods.

Or maybe you’re in the mood for something a little longer? My serialized novel, Dark as Dawn, Bright as Night, is a literary fantasy with elements of horror, and you can find all the episodes here!

And if you’re all in, go ahead and subscribe below!