The Runner

CHAPTER FOUR

Suddenly, the elevator stops, startling me to my knees in search of something to help brace the sudden impact. The lights flicker once more before they shut off completely, leaving me in total darkness. As hard as I tried to contain my composure before, all bets are off when you begin to fear for your life.

The ground feels cold on my knees and hands, and the nervous sweat from my forehead makes the strands of my hair stick to my forehead and face. Everything about my senses are way overstimulated. The chill of the ground, the heat of adrenaline, the total stretch of darkness.
One quick flash of blue. One quick flash of red. Both, leave me in the abyss once more. The only relief from this darkness appears when the elevator doors begin to slide open, creaking against the metal like a cage door. Like the slow and painful feeling of the underworld, the only thing providing me vision is fire. A few paces out of the elevator, the wild flickering of a blue flame tempts me to approach. I step out of the masked safety of the steel box and begin my slow and cautious step towards the flame. Swimming daringly in a perfectly displayed and carefully crafted bowel made from molten stone and igneous rock, lies flames of blue. Propped up next to the bowel's stand, is a torch held up proudly by its own display. Slowly, I grab the cold torch and dip it into the oddly synthetic and rather unnatural fire. I hold it out, away from my face in fear of the sudden intensity of heat, but there is none. Cold. if not for heat, what is then the purpose of fire? Simply to burn? But if this fire's only purpose is truly to burn, why not provide a lantern instead? A blue lantern would even suffice if the color and irony is so important (As it seems it apparently is).

I wave my hand through the flame quickly. Then back again but slower. Again, nothing. I hold the palm of my hand over the dashing, and quite eccentric flame. No heat, no searing pain like I half expected. Waving the torch in front of me across the small and safe oasis, I fear it is only a mirage as the blue torch reveals a singular path accompanied by ceiling high concrete walls, thick and strong enough to contain a grenade. Regrettably, I slowly creep towards the threshold of the lone, and rather tight corridor. My knowing of what awaits in front of me is limited, but I can tell the corridor stretches far. I guess there's no use in stalling.

I step in and begin to walk cautiously. Time starts now. A darkness catches the corner of both of my eyes. Two more paths. I could go left, right, or continue my current path. A maze, shit. Left. I've always wanted to be the type of girl that goes left. I've always found myself choosing right, then ultimately regretting my decision. In school I'd immediately choose a seat on the right side of the classroom, ten minutes later I find that all of the talkers chose the left. I have always had a weird superstition over the rights and the lefts. And for some odd reason I can clearly associate who's left and who is right. I want to be the girl that goes left.

I turn to be met with more of the abyss with only my blue flame to comfort me, until it wooshes away into the cold and stale air. Once again, darkness. Complete and total darkness. I giveth, and I taketh. I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I were to choose right. Would I have been met with the same fate, or possibly worse- because it can always get worse, and to think otherwise would be foolish especially in my situation as of late.

Like a wisp, beautiful and mystic, the flame takes light again down the hall rather than in the head of my torch. The flame dances tauntingly on the cold hard ground illuminating the floor until the next narrow turn. I walk towards the flame cautiously, fearful of its intentions, and fearful of the possibility of a flame having intentions. It's a very large possibility the personification of an inanimate element could mark the beginning of my ever-increasing madness.

Following the elusive flame reminds me of the game me and my sister would play. I would run and she would race to catch me. Ironically creepy foreshadowing now looking back. Our mother didn't like us running around her flower beds, so naturally they became the safe spot. I tried to make it a rule that if you went into the safe spot, the other should have to be a good distance away so you can catch your breath and leave without the possibility of getting caught the second you stepped out of the garden gate. To that, she said, "if you choose to be a scaredy cat you must face the consequences." Fair enough. The only way she was able to catch me was to run me into a corner, unable to slip through the space between the fence and her touch