To Kill A Mockingbird: A Fictional Narrative

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The pounding of footsteps rang through the clearing. I could hear my heart thumping. The footsteps grew louder and louder. Harsh shouts erupted from behind me. They were coming. So, I ran. Time slowed as I darted in and out of the dark trees. I eyed the woods around me. Surely, there had to be a someone there, but I could see no one. All seemed calm, aside from hunting cry of a bird. Dimly, I sensed a presence behind me. I spun to meet my hunter a second too late. And all at once, I realized with a shock, I was hit. I clawed at my back, trying to staunch the blood gushing from my back. I sank to the ground, writhing in pain as I was slowly surrounded by figures cloaked in black. My breathing grew ragged as they drew closer to me. I glared
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