A Man Runs

A man runs.

His breath is rhythmic.

His feet are pushed down into the mud and kicked back up into the air as he bolts.

"Come on, faster,” he grunts as he leaps over a broken tree. His adrenalin takes charge; heart rate intensifies, blood vessels contract and air passages dilate.

"One two, one two, come on," he breathes out into the cold thick air. His icy breath coats his bottom lip. He quickly runs his tongue over it bringing the colour back to life.

He dodges branches, jumps over rocks, pushes dangling leaves away from his face. His eyes are fixated into the distance and every muscle in his body is tense. He grunts.

Like a wild beast hunting its prey, he wants what’s in front of him and doesn’t care about looking behind.

Like a radar, he navigates his way through the forest. His agility quickens and his mind becomes a grid with coordinate points directing him to his target.

He feels the intensity, the hunger, the pain and the desperation to fight and kill.

"Yes I'm closer," he spits. He pounces off a rock and lands with both feet firmly planted on the ground. His eyes scan his surroundings.

He locates his target, and steadies his breath.

“I’ve come to kill you,” he says calmly.

There is no response.

He doesn’t hesitate. He just charges.