The Runner | Page 2 The Runner: Page 2 Page: 1 2 3 Short Story I was running so fast, I was so happy to run for him. I watched as the world blur around me. My velocity carried me more than I was responsible for my speed. Tears formed from the wind in my eyes slid past my cheeks and landed on the past behind me. I strained for the future, my heart beating fast in my chest. My lips curved in an unflattering smile. I laughed as I ran because I knew I was drawing closer and closer to the finish line. Oh the prize! I knew the one that told me to race was also the one that was promised at the end. And while I raced he encouraged me. "Keep going, keep running" he said to me. I loved running. I loved the feeling of the air in my hair. I loved how far I could jump, how fast I could move and respond to the obstacles in front of me. I ran everywhere and everyone knew I was a runner. At a blinding pace I ran waiting with anticipation the next curve in the road the next beautiful sunset, the next beautiful stream the next star filled sky. I love the beauty by the trail. Then one day I turned a corner and ran down a hill and found not a serene setting but a filthy soot-covered back alley. I was so shocked by this unfamiliar landscape. I had never run here before. This isn't the beauty I expected when I ran. It surprised me so much that I didn't see the refuse tripping my steps and crowding my feet. I lost my footing and fell to the cold, putrid ground. I slid and skidded along the floor of the alley until I came to a jarring stop in a pile of death. I was covered in it. I stood up to begin my journey but I was overcome by the scent that had swallowed me. It was as if it was in my skin- as if my body had been producing that putrid smell all along and I had been running so fast that I couldn't perceive the corrosion that had been wafting out of me like a chimney puking out a dark and choking smoke. I regained my mind and feet and took off again searching for the end to the alley. I was running fast but my pace was not what it was before. I began thinking about the place I found myself in. It was dark and there were no streams, the sky was a skinny sliver of grey peeking through the canyon of brick and mortar. The only color in that place was the red that was pouring out of my new wounds. Why would I be brought into such a place? Was I really on the right road? Had I taken a path not set out for me by the one that told me to run? These questions I asked yet I got no response. Where was the encouragement? I felt alone, was I alone? Was this dead alley so dark and forgotten that it made even the one that I ran for leave in disgust? Had he left to find a runner that never treaded into such a forgotten place? Page: 1 2 3 © BFC Studios. All rights reserved.