Writer's Cramp Entry April 4

THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY.
         "I know, I know! I'm coming!" The words had flashed once then faded before Eron's eyes as he skidded around the corner, almost losing his footing on the cobblestone walkway before getting his footing and resuming his headlong sprint down the street. Behind him, a trio of shots rang out, someone screamed. He didn't bother to look behind him to see who'd been shot, they didn't really matter anyway. Now everyone on the street was running, none but Eron knew which way to go. He used the confusion to his advantage, pushing through the panicked mob, crossing the street, and dodging between cars which had suddenly come to a hard stop--barely avoiding being run down by someone who had slammed on the accelerator instead.
TAKE THE ALLEY TO THE RIGHT THEN TURN LEFT
         "Right. Left. Got it!" He snapped but dutifully turned down the alleyway. There was a shift in his vision and he risked a look behind him. The opening to the alley was closed by a brick wall that hadn't been there a moment before. He gained maybe a few meters of ground in the chase but he didn't slow down. He turned left onto the next street and heard a dull boom from the alley. His pursuers weren't going to let a brick wall slow them down too much.
BUILDINGS ACROSS THE STREET
         The right side of the street was lined with large warehouses - he was getting close to the canal, but between Eron and the warehouses was a large open space with no traffic, no cover. Eron knew better than to argue, he hadn't been steered wrong yet. He ran across the street. "You better write fast, they're right behind me!" His vision blurred for a split second, and a large metal crate appeared directly to his right. He ducked behind it just as his pursuers exited the alley and began firing. Eron couldn't afford to stop, he kept running on course, shifting his feet to move behind each new crate as they materialized, keeping him relatively safe from the steady stream of bullets ejected from the massive pistols of the three dark hunters. The corner of his jacket whipped against him as a bullet tore through the fabric and a moment later another bit into his shoulder. It was little more than a grazing shot, but it packed enough punch to cause him to Twist and stumble, but momentum kept him moving forward
ERON DOUBLE DOORS
         He charged toward the building directly ahead, shoving through its large glass double doors. He found himself running across a wide concrete floor towards a cheap wooden reception desk when the doors again burst open as Eron dived over the top of the desk and hit the floor on the other side just as bullets started ripping into the woodwork, sending wooden shrapnel flying in all directions. "This isn't going to work, I need out of here!" he screamed into the air.
         The black hunters ceased firing. Their footsteps smacked heavy on the concrete floor as they approached the shredded desk. They knew that their quarry was trapped. They could take him alive.
HOLD ON
         "I AM Holding on! You need to write faster..." his voice trailed off to silence as the floor began to tremble, then quickly built to a rumble. When he looked up, his vision was blurred to the point where he could barely see straight, but the entire building seemed to be swaying.
         Eron ducked down and covered his head with his hands just as the air around him was filled with a loud, low rumbling sound like angry thunder. Over the din he heard the screeches of the startled and now injured black creatures, and then silence. After a moment, Eron finally got the nerve to look over the top of the desk. The floor had been broken up and giant tendrils of the rebar had twisted up out of the concrete, piercing the Hunters in several places. The metal continued to rise, taking the creatures with it, still twisting ever tighter until they were a mesh of metal, concrete, and broken, black tar-like flesh.
         He knew the Hunters wouldn't take long to reform into their humanoid form, or worse. He turned on wobbly legs and staggered towards the read, looking for the exit.
HURRY
         Once outside, Eron had a clear path across the grounds to the canal. He sprinted forward, putting his remaining energy into one last dash. At the very edge of the canal he mustered the last ounces of courage for one great leap and landed, to his surprise, on a still forming bridge.
GETTING WEAK HURRY
         Eron's feet compelled him across as the bridge built itself at his speed, keeping only inches ahead of his gait. Once again bullets whizzed by him, but nearing the opposite side of the canal he could see her, his ultimate destination and his charge, getting to her feet and frantically waving him on with one bandaged hand, holding a black book. In return he was waving the brilliant, golden quill pen he had set out to steal. "I've got it! I've got it!" he called out to her as he made the final leap from the bridge to the side of the canal, falling into her arms. "No more cutting, Kaituhi. No more...". Kaituhi wrote one last sentence before they faded away, together.
         The Hunters recovered the black book. The Alpha lifted the tome and rapidly leafed through the pages. Each page was full of writing, most smeared on with fingertips, the words in dark brown at the beginning, still damp and dark red near the end. The Alpha took note of each phrase. He could not read but would recreate them for others who could.
         Then on the last page, in golden ink and flowing calligraphy, drawn by the tip of a finely pointed pen:
THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY