Running Away
How long have I been running, I do not know. I remember a scene too horrific for words, one I wish I had never seen in the first place, and the feeling that I had to flee. Before I could understand what was happening, my legs were carrying me away. I wonder what people must have thought...a flash of blue and white-gold against the sky, the sensation of a rush of air going past... That scene is far behind me, yet I still keep going. They won't catch me, they can't. I'm too far away...out of reach...out of time, it seems. So, why am I still running? Houses, trees, land, and sea, and sky...all fly past, and I am helpless to stop my feet from moving. It is as though I'm outside of my body, just watching myself run. Something has changed, now...I am no longer fleeing that scene. It is as though the unspeakable horrors I witnessed have blended with the rest of my past to form a black cloud. It is that cloud, twisted, and ominous, that I think I am actually running from. Perhaps, just perhaps, if I can run faster than the wind, I might be bale to escape, and leave my past behind. That is all that I want.