Work Text:
he was
running. like a
man who gets
up and runs,
heart pounding
and feet thudding,
listening for
the reason
of his still running.
spear in
hand, he runs,
glancing behind
for the reason
of his
still running
is not far behind.
quick a
tree he can climb
up and up
and up he
goes, glancing
down to see the
reason of his
climb. he sighs
relief sweeping
through him like a
tidal wave. he is safe.
sharp
hot
pain
splices
through
him
on
the
tree
bright
light
shoots
through
him
and
he
cannot
move
for
fear
and
pain.
then it is over.
he is not alive, but he is not gone. he is in some in between, not here or there. he wanders about, looking for his friends. his mates. they must be dead. dead and gone. hes just dead.