This one I heard the minute I saw the picture. It's a different and a little seasonal.
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Tricky
I ran down the road trying not to trip over my own feet. I looked over my shoulder making sure they weren’t following me. It was misty, there was no telling; they could come over the rise of the road at any moment.
I clutched my bag to my chest, knowing that dropping it would be bad. The contents could not, under any circumstances see the light of day, if they did, I’d be in trouble – more trouble than those chasing me could ever pose.
I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this pace. It had been a while since I’d gotten myself into such a predicament. Despite this, I couldn’t stifle a smile. There was nothing quite like getting up to mischief; they didn’t call me Tricky for nothing.
I couldn’t resist a loud guffaw as I continued to run. It seemed to spike my adrenaline and gave me a boost. And I’d need it - the sound of horse’s hooves was coming up behind me – more than one set. I needed to get creative on the run.
I could just put my hand in the bag, but that was cheating. I had my own abilities to draw on. I pictured what I wanted in my head. It was simple, it was clean and no one would get harmed, although they wouldn’t think so. Another guffaw escaped my lips. Oh I was so wicked sometimes; it was perfect.
I muttered a few words as I ran, shouting the last over my shoulder. I heard yells and profanity along with a whooshing noise. The neighing got pretty loud as I glanced overhead, watching them clinging on for dear life as the horses stretched their new wings. They had no way of reining them in, so the horses were finally free – long overdue in my mind. Nothing worse than a human who breaks another animal’s spirit and uses them as slaves.
Humans. There I go again, separating myself from them as though I weren’t one of them. But then they didn’t consider me one of them, so why should I?
Now I’d dealt with them, I could slow down. The sun was rising and burning through the mist. I had to decide whether it was wise to remain on this path or whether I should seek refuge: find a dwelling, somewhere dark and bunker down, a chance to explore the contents of my bag. I could decide whether it was worth the risk holding on to it or whether it would benefit me to return it to its owner.
His ire toward those who had taken it had not yet been appeased. I could let him continue terrorising them, but eventually it would lead him to me. And there was no doubt in my mind that he could easily find me – someone who could create such an object had no trouble tracking anyone.
It also begged the question of whether he knew it was in my possession. He might already know I have it. His henchmen might already be on their way to me!
I stumbled on the uneven ground as I picked up pace across the fields, heading to the great forest that covered this part of the country.
I think I was decided. Befriending someone of his ilk far outweighed the tricks I could pull with this object. I had to get it to him. I had to make it look like that had been my intention all along.
I stayed on course, a plan formulating in my mind. Benefit me, yes, definitely. That was the way to go. We could be great friends he and I.
http://wsbradford.com/missing-ragnarok/
ReplyDeleteThanks you for entering. Wonderful piece. Works well with the prompt.
DeleteAnd here's a clickable link for other readers: Missing Ragnarok
The Too-Open Road
ReplyDeleteLove this intense emotional piece. Thanks for sharing it.
DeleteReally like the whimsy and trouble brewing in your story, MK. It's a fun read with an intriguing narrator. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you. Yes, she's an interesting character. I might have to revisit her.
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