The Run

I was running. T

he whole world stilled and I ran on. Nothing existed but me and a world of roads to run in...

the beats of my hopeful heart, and short breaths of mine were all I could hear. my throat was going dry, and my hands all shaking –my feet; weaker than ever. With every crazily beat of my heart the black curtain in front of my eyes strengthened... I well knew I was not far from falling apart.

But why now? Now that I needed them more than any other time? Now that I had to continue, now that I had to stand, now that I had to fight? Why now?

The harsh air of winter tore my throat with every breath. Death was close, but I had never imagined dying in this way. I was supposed to die like millions of other people: in sleep, in hospital or in a car accident. But life has chosen me a more creative way.

I couldn't feel anything anymore...nothing but pain.

My weakness was growing, but road was widespread in front of me...



"Hope" was the only power left in me.