Running, running, running. Always running. Always pushing forward. Never getting anywhere. Yes, the girl was moving forward, proven by the footprints trailing behind. So why did nothing ever change?
Tears roll down her cheeks Frustrated tears. Anxious tears. Tears of someone mentally exhausted.
Still pushing forward because she has to. Because it's required.
Oh, why can't the ground below just open wide and swallow her? Why can't she just be allowed to fall into silence and darkness?
Because she has to move. Does she want to? No. But she does it anyway.
Her reward for being a good little girl and obeying? Tears. Anxiety attacks. Frustration.
She keeps running; her dream of floating through the silent dark is still just that. Just a dream.
She runs.
YOU ARE READING
Make of These What You Will
RandomShort stories where YOU to decide what they mean. OR Short stories that were written without any planning ahead of time
