Wild....

I could feel my feet thumping against the hard, rocky, gravel path but my legs could only carry me so far, they already began to whine about being tired, but I had to keep going, he was right behind me. I wish my legs push as fast as my heart was pulsing. I kept going staring down at yellow tinted path cluttered with rocks and other debris, I tried to focus solely on my feet, but they were protesting with every stride. I witnessed a flash of old, tattered wood In front of me, I skidded to a halt stumbling backwards about to fall but managed to keep my balance. There were sirens in my head telling me to keep running but I couldn’t, I was surrounded by stone houses, that were tightly knit together like a quilt, all the greys and dulled yellows of the street merged, in the final moment and a surge of panic ran through my body.

“Tag, you are it!” Aabid exclaimed with a prideful smirk on his face. “Ha, I caught you, now you have to clean out horse dung from the stables!” Aabid was a loud kid and his confidence never seemed to waiver, I mean, why argue with people who don’t listen, and Aabid won’t. My words don’t deserve to be wasted, plus, it was deal. Aabid often made elaborate plans to get other people do his chores.

“Fine but next time I don’t think the cart will help you,” I stated with sarcasm falling out of mouth like a waterfall. You must keep Aabid’s ego in check at times otherwise he will be funnelled into the realm of his own self-absorption.

“Maybe, but can you hear that, I think I can hear the horses complaining about the state of their stable, hey that’s your responsibility now so get to it.” Aabid retorted, I swear he gave himself a high-five in his head.

I began to trudge through the prairie grass that was stretching up to my waist. The grass was the same colour as a parrot’s feathers. My walk slowing morphed to a mild skip.I wanted to get this over with fast not just cause cleaning out the stables was just the worst thing ever , Mr Lane had promised that I could try his bread right off the fire. There was nothing better than fresh, warm bread rolls. Crash! The embolizing sound pierced the air possessing my senses. My neck snapped backwards on instinct to look behind me. Two bulls in the town centre were at war, they were armed with the deadliest of weapons, their horns. I knew that I was safe up here, but they weren’t back down at the village. I didn’t want to see what was about to befall an unsuspecting victim of the bull’s terror, but my eyes were locked onto the ruckus. Panic struck me like a lightning bolt, and the electric shock waves pulsed through my body.

The bulls were wrestling each other by the horns, and I began to run back to the village, I slid down the edge of a tiny ledge, but it crumbled. My body flung foreword into the dirt a bit away from the village. I was stunned, phased, shocked. I lifted my head up to see a large man with honeycomb eyes, he had shaggy hair and berry bush eyebrows. It was Mr Lane! He pulled me up by the elbows, his friendly face was painted with concern, he softly dusted me off with haste. Lightning split the air like a sword. My eardrums rang begging for mercy. “Go hide in the bakery I’ll be there in second.” Mr Lane ordered with his face tilted and eyes staring into mine. I began to jog along the dirt road with caution as thunder commanded me to go. I hastily glanced back at the bulls just as the rain pour down with its own agenda in mind. The bulls had stopped fighting both mildly wounded along their flanks.

At last, I reached the bakery, but Mr Lane was nowhere to be found. I nudged open the once dark but now decaying door that seemed to have suffered an apocalypse but would still supply me sufficient refuge from the storm.

The thunder bellowed with anger and the lightning tormented the sky like a savage wolf. With one last peak looking for Mr Lane, I shut the door clutching the doorknob made of rope that had been banded together. I felt relieved the bakery could merely muffle the sounds though do not mute them. I shuffled towards a small oak table with a lantern blazing and other miscellaneous objects on it, I sat down there patiently awaiting Mr Lane’s arrival.

Light began to penetrate my eyelids as I drearily arose ,it hit me. I had fallen asleep, and Mr Lane hadn’t come back. It was still dark, but I noticed commotion. I rushed out of the bakery to see the town chief looking mournfully down at the towns people who had gathered. “I’m sorry to say but Mr Lane passed saving a lamb while the storm raged,” the crowd whispered in sorrowful murmurs. He had saved me, he did. “Thank you,” I whispered in my sorrow staring up at the moon.