[ WP ] `` We 're not so different , you and I . '' He holds out a knife , handle first . `` You know what must be done . ''

I ran, faster than what I could believe I could run. Running through a forest. I tore through the bramble, leaping over fallen logs and weaving through trees. I was exhilarated from the cool air hitting my face, but why do I feel so scared? I turn my head and see what I'm afraid of. Two men dressed all in camo are sprinting after me, one has a crossbow and the other holds... oh, God, is that a spear? 
 
 Speed pours from my legs. One of them men stops running and crouches, he's taking aim. I quickly slid under a low hanging tree limb, which is thick as my torso, as a crossbow bolt sink into the bark. I yelped and began to run again. I hear the snap of the crossbow and I roll to the side, the bolt protrudes from a tree trunk. 
 
 When I begin to stand is when the spear man is close to me. He charges me, spear tip bristling. I side step and I hear the bow again, I roll and come up on my feet. Spear man pulled his spear from the tree and charged my again. I sidestep and grab the spear's shaft as it goes by. We begin a dance over control of the spear. Twisting and shoving, hoping the other let's go first. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement. 
 
 I spin the spear, man in tow, as the crossbow bolt lodges itself into spear man. He lets loose a scream, loud and full of pain. In that instant his grip on the spear loosens and I take the chance. I rip the spear away from his grasp and ram the tip into him. The force from my attack sends spear man to the ground, he hit the dirt and stared in wonder at the spear's shaft protruding from his belly. 
 
 I blink and suddenly we're not in the woods, we're... well, no where. Surrounding us is nothing but white. There does n't seem to be a floor but we do n't fall either. Spear man sighs and pulls out a knife attached to his belt. 
 
 `` We're not so different you and I.'' He holds out a knife, handle first. `` You know what must be done.'' 
 
 I take the knife with a trembling hand. I stare down upon the man, his face changed, into that of my father. The spear had disappeared and left an ugly wound. I raise the knife over my head and let it fall. 
 
 I awake with a start, another bad dream. I hate these dreams. They always seem to real. I turn over and try to fall back asleep.
