Friday, December 30, 2011

The Chase

For no apparent reason, she started running.  For this reason alone, she became the Quarry.  Hers was an easy lope; she dared not go faster for fear of tripping in her snowshoes.

I had no such fear.

She had a generous head start, but I knew within three long, running steps that she didn’t stand a chance.  My speed was greater than hers from the start, but it built as my over-sized feet hammered the snow, churning the virgin expanse of glimmering white and leaving a narrow but thoroughly destroyed swath in my wake.

With each step, the tails of the snowshoes snapped upward, sending a fresh cascade of fine crystals over my head and into the hood which flapped behind me like a battle pennant.  I was closing fast, and knew I could go faster, but her speed suddenly dropped, oblivious to the imminent threat swiftly approaching from the back.

Deprived of the chase, I bellowed in rage, arms thrown wide for a sweeping tackle,and was rewarded by a quick turn, a look backwards, and an expression of sudden horror upon a visage already pinked with exertion and cold air.

1 comment:

  1. it is beautiful piece. I hope you keep writing about all moment which should be remembered by your strong but delicate pen. I miss those moments so that make me to think to go back where the rest of my life moves forward.

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