Run

A little boy, sweat pouring down his frightened face, is running wildly through a forest. His heavy steps plodding against the ground in rhythm with his heaving chest, rising, falling, expanding, contracting, it is impossible for him to get enough air in the damp forest, the humidity hangs onto his clothes, his skin, his body, pulls him backwards as if it is clutching at his frail frame…he takes a look back, over his right shoulder, over his left shoulder, trees, nothing but trees, but he can feel it, he can hear it, he knows it is still after him, deep down the fear smolders like coals ready to erupt when given the chance, all they need is a light, and the light is coming, the fire is breathing down his neck, his wet hair plastered to his head, bobbing up and down in rythm with the fear that pulsates through his legs, through his chest, his heart, and up out of his eyes, wide open, tears streaming from the edges, the tears like tributaries to the river of salt water running down between his nose, off the edge of his nose and onto his shirt below, again, he looks over his left, then his right shoulder, it’s closer, it almost has a grab of him, for a second he wants to give in, he wants to turn around and stretch his arms wide to the world and embrace that which is chasing him, let whatever it is rush through his body, take his soul, take his life, and continue on to the next victim, the next little boy running in front of him. There are hundreds of them trampling through the woods, beating news paths with the soles of their shoes, they fill the forest like misquitos, swarming through the trees, all blurry eyed, all drenched in fear, swamped in terror, there mouths hang open, no audible sounds escape except for the agonizing breaths…there ahead is the cottage, the light is on, the mist, the humidity, the claws do not have a hold of the world there, if he can make it there, if his legs can keep on moving, like blobs of rubber rumbling under his waist…he can’t feel them anymore, all he can think about is that cottage, with the lighted window, the clearing, the safety…finally he is there, he stops at the door, all his worries, all his fears, they all fade away, the others are still running hopelessly through the forest, still searching for their safe place, but here he is, at the door, drenched with the fear that was, standing in the hope that will be, he turns the door knob and the monster from within bursts through the door, scoops him up with his nasty paw, lifts him to the sky, the sun beating down on the frantic little boys head, he looks into the monster’s eye…what is it? what is that? why does he recognize…and then he is gone.

~ by kevinthomas on March 31, 2006.