The Boy Who Ran

night in the desert

Mark put the phone down and ran.

He didn’t run out of the front door to his car. He ran out the back, across his small yard and flung himself over the fence. He ran across the muddy field, lit only by moonlight because the sky was clear. His heart beat like a drum, pumping acid and sorrow around and around, into his head and back again. And suddenly, he heard the footfalls of shadowy pursuers behind him.

They couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be true.

Mark ran anyway. He could no longer tell what was real, and what was not. Continue reading

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