Stories That Crawled From My Brain

Pursuit

I was out for my nightly run. I prefer it out at night; it's the only part of my day I ever get the space to think, to breathe, to zone out to the monotonous sound of my footsteps pounding the tarmac. It's the only time I ever feel truly alone.

People would always say to me that it's not safe out alone after dark, that it's dangerous, but I never felt that way: I live out in the suburbs, and save for the lights of the houses way back off the street, behind the row of sweet smelling cedars, you'd never believe another soul was alive with you on the planet, let alone lurking somewhere nearby, just out of view. No - this place was so peaceful you'd never believe anything could break it.

I moved out of the city behind for that very reason, and I was damned if just because the people here had never moved out of the calm, leafy, tranquil countryside - I mean, the place is suburban, sure, but it was definitely getting on the for the countryside out here - just because they'd never moved away from home and lived amongst the dirt and the out-in-the-open crime I saw every day in the city, they thought everything here was trying to kill them. Ha, I'd say, haughtily. Imagine if your morning walk from the station to the office went past junkies passed out with needles in their arms, aggressive beggars pursuing you for your non-existent change, kids with knives and a point to prove sticking you for your phone, your wallet, or just for laughs. That's real danger.

They were a bunch of wusses, I thought. What else could possibly be out there?  Certainly nothing as dangerous as some mugger or psycho killer or anything silly like that - things that were happening day in, day out where I was before. 

Well, anyway, where was I? Sorry, I'm so easily distracted these days. I'm just so tired, is all. Here - let me just pour myself out another cup of coffee - ah, there we are.

So… oh, right, yeah, so one night I'm out running, running right down the middle of the street like I do… like I did, every night. And like every other night, The warm breeze gently russles the trees, the summer night air is sweet, the slightly melted tarmac more forgiving under my padding feet. You know the picture. Moon's full, streets are so bright it's almost like daylight in the pale glow.

I'm making great time, getting on for P.B. ten K - that's personal best - if I keep up the pace. I don't know why you use Ks instead of miles when it's about running, but you just do. Anyway, I'm virtually sprinting, going as fast as I can, the sound of my steps clattering on the road the only sound in the stillness. My tempo's good, feels like I'm flying. But then, something begins to bug me. At first, I can't hear it, can't work it out over the sound of my heavy breath. It's faint, but it gets louder until there's no mistaking that it's there: footsteps, far behind me. 

Another runner out, I think. I'm a little bothered, I'll admit. I love the solitude of the night, and for someone to plant themselves in my silent domain feels a little invasive. And not only that - I'll admit I'm a little freaked out, almost immediately. 

Why? Yeah, I suppose it feels normal to meet other people out every now and again when I was out at that time, but up to that point, I had never met anyone out on my evening run. And I don't mean hardly ever, like a couple of times or something like that. I mean never.  In all the time I'd been running out at night, which I did at least three times a week since I'd moved to the suburbs four or so years ago, I'd never even seen a car, let alone another person. But that's exactly why I moved to this place from the city, that unbelievable peace and quiet. But out there, in the darkness, all alone, I gotta admit that the words of those bloody country types had now fully penetrated into my head. Who was the person behind me?

Can you close the curtains, you say? There's a sunglare? I'm sorry, but I like to keep them open. Just in case, you see. Here - why don't we just move your chair? Is that better? It is? Good.