The Running Boy
Chapter 1
Eastern winds swept hurriedly across the expansive acres of peach trees. Their pinkish white blossoms took care to hold tightly to their stems, yet some inevitably broke away by the mighty gusts. For Jason, the wind was freedom, and with each sustained flurry his spirit grew more and more belligerent within him.
An insatiable desire to wander began to take over. His feet played like a soldier's drum upon the pavement; each step in perfect tempo for war. A man of directionless direction was he, the wanderer of paved sidewalks.
Jason thought many things as he traveled. He considered the way the winds played upon his spirit, and impassioned him with the desire to fly. He considered how the cars passed in hasty irreverence, their noise desecrating his solitude. He even considered how the sparrow sat upon the tree branch all day, his only wish to sing and make merry. But all of these thoughts were shadowed by the mountain of doubt within his heart. Life seemed, at the moment, unsteady.
Jason struggled with the future. The last four years of high school had left him more confused about his life than ever before. As the worries of homework and childish interactions began to fade, they were continually replaced by the much darker worries of adult life. Jason was not afraid, however, just anxious.
After a mile or so of quick walking, Jason came to a little river canal. Lined beside the river were large willow trees, their branches creating ideal patches of shade. Jason sat on the grass beneath them and lost himself in the noises about him. The birds, the waters, and the wind harmonized sweetly with one another. Yet something in his heart struck a cacophonous tune, leaving him unsettled.
The waters quickened. Each chirp of the bird sounded off in close succession. Even the winds began to beat upon his face more heavily. Suddenly he was running; sprinting down the river path like a wanted criminal. His legs flew as frightened doves, beating the path at a spasmodic pace. This new tune was frightening and desperate. Further and further past the farm houses and vineyards and barren fields he ran. His hostile spirit forcing him to gain speed.
The semi-truck loaded with lumber failed to stop in time as the young man crossed the street. His body, after being taken into the air for a marvelous moment, lay broken and bloodied on the asphalt. His eyes rested behind their coverings and lost the light of life forever. But the birds kept singing above the gruesome scene. Nothing fazed them. They simply sang and flew and jumped about as birds do, until the shadows of night returned them to quietude.
An insatiable desire to wander began to take over. His feet played like a soldier's drum upon the pavement; each step in perfect tempo for war. A man of directionless direction was he, the wanderer of paved sidewalks.
Jason thought many things as he traveled. He considered the way the winds played upon his spirit, and impassioned him with the desire to fly. He considered how the cars passed in hasty irreverence, their noise desecrating his solitude. He even considered how the sparrow sat upon the tree branch all day, his only wish to sing and make merry. But all of these thoughts were shadowed by the mountain of doubt within his heart. Life seemed, at the moment, unsteady.
Jason struggled with the future. The last four years of high school had left him more confused about his life than ever before. As the worries of homework and childish interactions began to fade, they were continually replaced by the much darker worries of adult life. Jason was not afraid, however, just anxious.
After a mile or so of quick walking, Jason came to a little river canal. Lined beside the river were large willow trees, their branches creating ideal patches of shade. Jason sat on the grass beneath them and lost himself in the noises about him. The birds, the waters, and the wind harmonized sweetly with one another. Yet something in his heart struck a cacophonous tune, leaving him unsettled.
The waters quickened. Each chirp of the bird sounded off in close succession. Even the winds began to beat upon his face more heavily. Suddenly he was running; sprinting down the river path like a wanted criminal. His legs flew as frightened doves, beating the path at a spasmodic pace. This new tune was frightening and desperate. Further and further past the farm houses and vineyards and barren fields he ran. His hostile spirit forcing him to gain speed.
The semi-truck loaded with lumber failed to stop in time as the young man crossed the street. His body, after being taken into the air for a marvelous moment, lay broken and bloodied on the asphalt. His eyes rested behind their coverings and lost the light of life forever. But the birds kept singing above the gruesome scene. Nothing fazed them. They simply sang and flew and jumped about as birds do, until the shadows of night returned them to quietude.