Night-runner
Why does everybody wear darkness at night? Who are these people and what are they running from - where are they heading?
I was standing on top of a table watching nothing and no one, in the eye of the latter. I found myself in a blank space in the park. Nearby laid a pool without any fish, a pond maybe, but at night no birds bothered to bathe. Quiet was the night and as I stood there, lit up by the grand spotlight, which gave a sinister taste to the scene - premonitions from every odd play of Shakespeare, the disc of the occult - I suddenly saw a man dressed in black, of course, walking along one of the pathways. He made no noise but seemed to be talking into something. His path led on but behind this C of bushes. My gaze perceived shapes of fists, a gallows pole of a dead tree amidst the crescent and a bonfire of thick wrestling stems, waiting to be lit up to consume a presumably horrible witch. As my eye followed his last steps before vanishing, my heart started pounding, because after that I wouldn't know if he would stop and spy on me. But I carried on deducting from his earlier pace, in order to premeditate his abandoning the shelter of this morbid piece of landscape. I hoped my head wouldn't disappoint me.
... has he seen me? is he in fact watching me from among those bushes?
I felt no fear, but I had an anxiety-rush. My apt body seeked adrenaline to fight back and show the attacker that no aggression can super-seed a trained and well-balanced man like the person on that flaming table - why was I standing out there in the open? I heard his steps and then I could be sure that he was making way to his end. At the corner of an eye I saw a man approaching from the other side of the park. He was, naturally, wearing black. The wind and his step were pushing and pulling the skirts of his leather coat or cloak and the pale light, supplied by the odd lamppost, made it difficult to add up the distance. His limp told the tale of a worn warrior and in his hand an item in a strange shape made an impact on me. I found an interesting angle to things - the men were walking the same path.
... what wil happen when they meet on the other side of the playground, on the other side of innocence, in reach of evil?
The moments were really nerve-tickling and maybe I was abiding the time till the ferocious fight would commence. Just as the man with a limp was turning the corner of a brick-building next to the obscurity - he was heading in my direction for at least 200 meters, straight on - he nearly collided with the silently speaking man. They wandered off security when hit by the sudden and unwanted interaction. Fields of strange energy, like thunder-bumping clouds, unloaded some sparks, but strange to say the magicians went on, retracing the steps of the other, moving with their backs towards the wanted direction for a couple of seconds, then finding the balance again, turning towards their different ends and new starting-points. The whispering walker found the limpster most creepy, one could gather by watching his head leaning over his shoulder in glances. "He is not hunting me down is he?", he asked someone hidden as his body danced away.
... where is the black limp at? is he watching me, preparing blows and rolling thunder?
I was standing on top of a table watching nothing and no one, in the eye of the latter. I found myself in a blank space in the park. Nearby laid a pool without any fish, a pond maybe, but at night no birds bothered to bathe. Quiet was the night and as I stood there, lit up by the grand spotlight, which gave a sinister taste to the scene - premonitions from every odd play of Shakespeare, the disc of the occult - I suddenly saw a man dressed in black, of course, walking along one of the pathways. He made no noise but seemed to be talking into something. His path led on but behind this C of bushes. My gaze perceived shapes of fists, a gallows pole of a dead tree amidst the crescent and a bonfire of thick wrestling stems, waiting to be lit up to consume a presumably horrible witch. As my eye followed his last steps before vanishing, my heart started pounding, because after that I wouldn't know if he would stop and spy on me. But I carried on deducting from his earlier pace, in order to premeditate his abandoning the shelter of this morbid piece of landscape. I hoped my head wouldn't disappoint me.
... has he seen me? is he in fact watching me from among those bushes?
I felt no fear, but I had an anxiety-rush. My apt body seeked adrenaline to fight back and show the attacker that no aggression can super-seed a trained and well-balanced man like the person on that flaming table - why was I standing out there in the open? I heard his steps and then I could be sure that he was making way to his end. At the corner of an eye I saw a man approaching from the other side of the park. He was, naturally, wearing black. The wind and his step were pushing and pulling the skirts of his leather coat or cloak and the pale light, supplied by the odd lamppost, made it difficult to add up the distance. His limp told the tale of a worn warrior and in his hand an item in a strange shape made an impact on me. I found an interesting angle to things - the men were walking the same path.
... what wil happen when they meet on the other side of the playground, on the other side of innocence, in reach of evil?
The moments were really nerve-tickling and maybe I was abiding the time till the ferocious fight would commence. Just as the man with a limp was turning the corner of a brick-building next to the obscurity - he was heading in my direction for at least 200 meters, straight on - he nearly collided with the silently speaking man. They wandered off security when hit by the sudden and unwanted interaction. Fields of strange energy, like thunder-bumping clouds, unloaded some sparks, but strange to say the magicians went on, retracing the steps of the other, moving with their backs towards the wanted direction for a couple of seconds, then finding the balance again, turning towards their different ends and new starting-points. The whispering walker found the limpster most creepy, one could gather by watching his head leaning over his shoulder in glances. "He is not hunting me down is he?", he asked someone hidden as his body danced away.
... where is the black limp at? is he watching me, preparing blows and rolling thunder?