I ran away, through the brush. I felt the pricks of the sharp thorns as they pierced my flesh. I felt the tears of anger rush from my cheeks. I wanted to get out of there. Where I end up...
Footsteps from behind grow gradually louder. He was wearing thick pants, unlike me, who wore my thin flannel pajama pants. I can't allow him to get too close.
"But what if he catches me?" I ask myself. "What then?"
I ran harder, my bare feet pounding into the ground; once or twice I would step on low-lying thorns and they would cause me to stumble.
A light ahead, symbolizing my freedom. But wait, I don't hear the footfalls of my pursuer. Why is he not following me anymore? Surely my plan hadn't actually worked.
In the clearing, I saw him. He had passed me easily, and stood, breathing normal, just staring at me. I on the other hand was panting, I knew that I was free. And even if I wasn't I wouldn't be able to run anymore.
"You can't take me back there," I whispered.
He simply grins, like all the other times. "Do you remember the first gift I gave you?" he asked me.
I remembered when I enjoyed him being with me. When we would go to concerts with our friends, when we kissed. All of the good memories.
But they were soon gone... except one. The rose that he gave me before all this craziness began. He told me that he had picked it from a Rose bush, the very one behind him.
He held up the rose, which had lasted an amazing amount of time.
"It withers now," he said, staring at the rose, whose colors are fading.
"All things wither in time," I told him. "Unlike my love for you."
Both of us were surprised, and I ran up to him and punched him in the face. But I then hugged him.
"You are the only one," I whispered. "Our love will never wither."
"No. Just no."
- by Gay van Redd |
- | Submitted on 10/13/2011 |
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