Scattered Dreams & Dragonflies

The locket

The roaring sound of raindrops smashed against the soggy forest floor, as sporadic lightning filled the sky with thunderous uproar. The tracks left by those who traversed it prior were now barely visible through the blinding rain. Maneuvering awkwardly among the trees, a chase was at hand. A man fled from his adversary with nothing to his name but a firmly gripped locket in his hand.

"Eliza... don't fail me now,"

He whispered, kissing the locket still dangling from his neck, constantly slipped across the soggy mud piles beneath him. Often, accumulated puddles of water and dirt splashed into his eyes. He cleaned them as best as he could to see his path, knowing full well that stopping could prove to be his downfall. Someone not too far away wanted to take what was his. Desperately, he continued to run in random directions, accompanied by what little light remained in the day. Occasionally, he looked back, attempting to figure out if he was indeed being followed. The feeling was vivid—the sense of heavy breathing on his neck, the pressure of unseen eyes on him slowly spiraling his mind into oblivion. He felt it, and yet, no one was there.

Along with the rain and lightning, fog, as an uninvited guest, covered his surroundings. Soon, the man was trapped by a white veil. Unable to see where he could go, unable to visualize what was next, he stopped out of desperation to think of his next move.

"Fuck!.. Fuck, fuck!!.." He yelled out of frustration.

"What now... wha-... what wha-," He mumbled to himself, breathing heavily. The pressure and the time he had spent desperately traversing through the forest had begun to take a toll on him. His heavy breathing was a tell, serving only to his enemy, knowing full well it would bring about his downfall in time. Looking in every direction, the man continued to think, trying to figure out what or where to go. In his eyes, desperation, like a stubborn tenant, had begun to house itself. His body language now gave way to signs of defeat. His knees grew weaker as the cold rain and the ever-growing uncertainty of his situation made him tremble in fear. Regardless, the downpour still drenched him as he stood among the unyielding fog. In spite of it all, he knew he could not stand there forever, so he decided to move.

"It's now or never," He said, turning decisively in a random direction.

But before he could run, something stopped him in his tracks. The sound of agile footsteps could be heard around him. He stood there, trying to figure out where they were coming from, but sadly, he could not. Someone was getting closer. With every passing second, the footsteps grew louder and louder, so much so that he could finally pinpoint their direction. He knew someone was coming; he needed to be ready regardless of the outcome. Then, his mind made a choice, his fight-or-flight senses were put to the test. He braced for the encounter. For once in his life, a man who feared everything, who trembled at the thought of opposition, found himself standing his ground against an unknown enemy. He was not ready, but alas, he had decided. For seconds that felt like an eternity, he stared back into the void-like fog.

Hoping to catch at least a glimpse of his pursuer, or rather the realization of his mistake, his eyes opened wide in surprise. A detonation echoed across the forest, stronger than any lightning, stronger than any rock that would ever fall in this empty but humid place. A sound more intimidating than any cry a ferocious bear or a graceful lion could muster. Then he felt it—the burning sensation in his arm, sheathing intensely, like a hot oven to the touch. The look of surprise in his eyes gave it away; he was, indeed, shot. He saw the blood pour out effortlessly, confirming his worry as the water pouring down on him pushed it downstream from his skin.

"This is not happening... This is not happening," the man said to himself as he saw his arm bleed.

He was unable to move it as he stood there in pure agony. Without time to recuperate, he heard the footsteps again, this time managing to catch a glimpse of the culprit—the dreaded man who had shot him clean through the arm. Noticing his presence, he found himself frozen in place. Time stood still as his eyes came into contact with the silhouette of his enemy. The impending possibility of death, of being separated from this world, of not being able to see Eliza once more, was too much to bear.