The leaves crumpled beneath my tattered old shoes. Running. I was always running. The grays in the air were somehow soothing to my eyes. I have been so accustomed to the darkness that it is my safe haven now. I was running from the ghosts of my pasts, from the aftermath of poor choices and ill-fated luck. Running to god knows where, but the idea of escape was what was exhilarating. The race to a tempest that sprung new problems to life, but that was okay as long as I sneaked through the thirsty hands of my current issues.
Being lost in a crowd was calming. To never be found by the demons of yesterday felt too relieving to be true. But it was always a distant hope, a reverie of the day even. The past always catches up. It doesn't leave you alone till it's resolved the matters that are tangled in a ball of mess. The matters that were dark and filthy, that need not be reincarnated in thoughts or conversations, because the vile taste of their existence was like a painful punch to the gut. I ran through the deciduous lands, the land of the forbidden as people would like to say, where the sun never smiled and the air lay thick. The mist was as dense as the one on a gloomy morning. The fear of being discovered hung heavy in the air, seeping through my bones and creeping under my skin. I could not let them catch up to me. I could not give him the pleasure of seeing a girl that cowers behind the shadow of someone she once was. I could not give him the satisfaction of being the one to place the scars that would never dissipate, of the wounds that would never disappear. My eyes were red, a headache pounding through my skull and the gashes that were present on my skin promised no good. I had no direction but somehow I knew where I was going. It's ironical how man is always running. Running from the decisions he himself made and running from the failure that drenches him.
I reflected upon my life, of how there were appearances of happiness now and then and of how joy dissolved into a future of unending torture. Sometimes I wondered how things would have been if someone spoke up. If someone fought for me like I had hoped, or if I could fight for myself like I wanted to. There were futile attempts from my side occasionally, but nothing ever fruited to anything good. Fate seemed to like the twisted way she treated me, when she threw blow after blow of pain and agony which I narrowly ever survived from. The scar on my neck will always be a reminder, a reminder of how pathetically I had been treated and how the shallow depths of shame and helplessness promised to consume me. I thought of those snippets of happy memories I owned. How there should have been more to my life than the masks of false identities and the innumerable absconds. It didn't matter. Life was never stable. Staying in one place too long brought me closer to the evil hands of danger.
Sometimes the idea of giving in to oblivion was too tempting. I had only ever managed to live like I should, once, and I forever regret that night. The ghosts of that lively night were always chasing me, teetering me over to insanity. By now I was a skilled athlete, the practice of my escapades over the years trained me physically and emotionally to flee at any given time. The gloom and doom in the acidic air did little to stop me. The acrid dry soil was a hurdle I was gliding through easily. Darkness howled in the deep night, resonating in my ears and bringing the hairs on the nape of my neck to strict attention. I always felt like I was being watched, like I was the prey to a long-lasting hunt ,like I was being calculated for attack. The dry dust settled on my clammy hands every now and then, specks of ash and filth rising in the air every time my shoes skid. My heart thumped in rhythm with the crickets buzzing in the moonless night while the darkness that bathed the land coated my heart.
There was light in a faraway place. A dim glow, but it pierced the blackness nonetheless. Light was not hope. Light was horror. It proved in more incidences than one that it helped him recognise me. It was the bad guy here. I feared the light, the risk of him finding me was stronger in the light than the dark. I could diffuse in the dark, it's depth ambushing me and keeping me collected in its arms. Light would keep me exposed, vulnerable to his foul gaze that captivated me with the horrid intentions they held. But as fate would have it, I was left with little choice. The coldness engulfed me in its stony arms, my will to escape these dry lands stronger than ever. Maybe this time the light would help.
My breath came out in heavy pants and I had to stop a moment to collect myself. I should have known that was a bad idea. The silence that exploded around me was nowhere near solemnly, it was nerve-crackling. The snap of a twig cut through the calm eerieness like a knife through butter. I could not have mistaken that deep rich voice even if I wanted to.
"I have missed you Mia." It was him. My dark past had caught up to me.
Being lost in a crowd was calming. To never be found by the demons of yesterday felt too relieving to be true. But it was always a distant hope, a reverie of the day even. The past always catches up. It doesn't leave you alone till it's resolved the matters that are tangled in a ball of mess. The matters that were dark and filthy, that need not be reincarnated in thoughts or conversations, because the vile taste of their existence was like a painful punch to the gut. I ran through the deciduous lands, the land of the forbidden as people would like to say, where the sun never smiled and the air lay thick. The mist was as dense as the one on a gloomy morning. The fear of being discovered hung heavy in the air, seeping through my bones and creeping under my skin. I could not let them catch up to me. I could not give him the pleasure of seeing a girl that cowers behind the shadow of someone she once was. I could not give him the satisfaction of being the one to place the scars that would never dissipate, of the wounds that would never disappear. My eyes were red, a headache pounding through my skull and the gashes that were present on my skin promised no good. I had no direction but somehow I knew where I was going. It's ironical how man is always running. Running from the decisions he himself made and running from the failure that drenches him.
I reflected upon my life, of how there were appearances of happiness now and then and of how joy dissolved into a future of unending torture. Sometimes I wondered how things would have been if someone spoke up. If someone fought for me like I had hoped, or if I could fight for myself like I wanted to. There were futile attempts from my side occasionally, but nothing ever fruited to anything good. Fate seemed to like the twisted way she treated me, when she threw blow after blow of pain and agony which I narrowly ever survived from. The scar on my neck will always be a reminder, a reminder of how pathetically I had been treated and how the shallow depths of shame and helplessness promised to consume me. I thought of those snippets of happy memories I owned. How there should have been more to my life than the masks of false identities and the innumerable absconds. It didn't matter. Life was never stable. Staying in one place too long brought me closer to the evil hands of danger.
Sometimes the idea of giving in to oblivion was too tempting. I had only ever managed to live like I should, once, and I forever regret that night. The ghosts of that lively night were always chasing me, teetering me over to insanity. By now I was a skilled athlete, the practice of my escapades over the years trained me physically and emotionally to flee at any given time. The gloom and doom in the acidic air did little to stop me. The acrid dry soil was a hurdle I was gliding through easily. Darkness howled in the deep night, resonating in my ears and bringing the hairs on the nape of my neck to strict attention. I always felt like I was being watched, like I was the prey to a long-lasting hunt ,like I was being calculated for attack. The dry dust settled on my clammy hands every now and then, specks of ash and filth rising in the air every time my shoes skid. My heart thumped in rhythm with the crickets buzzing in the moonless night while the darkness that bathed the land coated my heart.
There was light in a faraway place. A dim glow, but it pierced the blackness nonetheless. Light was not hope. Light was horror. It proved in more incidences than one that it helped him recognise me. It was the bad guy here. I feared the light, the risk of him finding me was stronger in the light than the dark. I could diffuse in the dark, it's depth ambushing me and keeping me collected in its arms. Light would keep me exposed, vulnerable to his foul gaze that captivated me with the horrid intentions they held. But as fate would have it, I was left with little choice. The coldness engulfed me in its stony arms, my will to escape these dry lands stronger than ever. Maybe this time the light would help.
My breath came out in heavy pants and I had to stop a moment to collect myself. I should have known that was a bad idea. The silence that exploded around me was nowhere near solemnly, it was nerve-crackling. The snap of a twig cut through the calm eerieness like a knife through butter. I could not have mistaken that deep rich voice even if I wanted to.
"I have missed you Mia." It was him. My dark past had caught up to me.
Nice :)
ReplyDeleteThis was beautiful. Honestly.. I wanted to fight for you in the third paragraph. :*
ReplyDelete