The Runner

Thud. Thud. Thud. The drumming in my chest matches the pounding of my feet. The road is long, my muscles are sore, but I can’t stop. I can never stop. The constant movement is barely enough to keep it all at bay. I can’t risk letting the damn break. Every image to my left. Every memory to my right. Trailing along without breaking a sweat. My eyes sting and my body reeks of perspiration. But I have to go on. I have to keep pushing.

I can’t feel my feet anymore. They have long since numbed out from the pain. My body almost feels like a machine: just going through the motions. I can still hear them behind me, their loud voices echoing with insults and cackles. They are like jackals - relentless.

Thud. Thud. Thud. How long can I keep going? How long before my heart gives out and my lungs collapse? My breath is already desperate, heaving, and my vision is blurry. Perhaps I never should have started running, but the tornado of nightmares is too severe now. What other choice do I have but to flee into death?