Sometimes, the most dangerous thing in a persecution isn´t exactly the persecutor... |
Everyone is running, so I run along with them. I dont know who's after us or what we are escaping from, but we are running as if to save our lives. My ears catch a few whispers that materialize like a frozen cloud in their escape of the confidant's trembling lips; but none of these murmurs are revealing much information. All I hear is talk of the hideous cold that makes this escape so strenuous and the overwhelming panic that is taking over. Suddenly, a beautiful blond girl utters, with a fragile voice, a secret. It wasnt intended for me, but it still creeps with naughtiness to my reach: "Mommy, what should I do if the ghost catches me?" The words climb with their fine and delicate tentacles to my conscience, suffocating me with an agonizing cold. With an awakening shudder, I realize I have stopped in my tracks. The mental paralysis that took over my senses also froze my legs. I am now standing by myself, ensconced in the dust of the mad crowd ahead of me. With each second the others are farther and farther away. So I start running again. My bewildered imagination tries to convince me that I will never be able to reach them, because- it claims- the closer I get, the faster they run. Nonsense. Finally, I am able to see some figures. Blacks and grays are somehow materializing in the mist. I hear a scream. It pierces through the night's air like a shining blade. Too immature to be coming from an adult, I assume it must have escaped from a child's mouth. Perhaps it is the beautiful blond girl who had inadvertently shared with me her toxic whisper. I continue running farther down the road. I can make out the silhouette of a little one lying in the floor between clouds of the twilight, her feet entangled in some branches of a fallen tree nearby. My heart pumping, I race towards her to aid her, in some pathetic attempt of repaying my debt to her. With each step I get closer; I can recognize more of the child: her delicate curls, her fine dress, and her white skin. It is definitely her. Closer. I am now standing over her and I come near. I am close enough to perceive her beautiful features trembling with fear. Her red lips are parted, her teeth are chattering. Her pale eyes stare at me with the purest panic I had never imagined could exist. But there is something else in those enormous green eyes. A reflection of a ghost is staring back at me. |