A Little Stranger

The cry was stifled as soon as it was heard. The boy bit his lip ignoring the rush of pain his nerves were registering. He refused to give his tormentor any pleasure in his pain.

The man shook his head, the memory falling away from him like water from a ducks back. He walked carefully, blue eyes interrogating the ground, searching for signs of disturbance. He was tall with shaggy brown hair cut just above his shoulders and his face would have been handsome but the scowl he wore gave him a desperate look. He bent down and felt the ground for a moment, considering. The ground was cold in the winter afternoon air, but he decided the tracks were fresh rising as he pulled his coat closed around him to keep out the wind. His coat was the closes thing he had to a companion. It was faithful as no one in his life had been.

"What, aren't you gonna cry?" The raven haired boy demanded sounding close to tears himself as he kicked his smaller brother again. "C'mon cry you little brat. CRY!" The brother remained silent, lips refusing to quiver. The raven haired boy screeched as he rushed at him.

The tracks became harder to follow by degrees. Soon they were further apart, further away. You won't lose me so easy the man thought quickening his pace to keep up. He soon broke into a run following furiously, heart racing. The sun was setting and soon the forest would be blanketed in darkness. He would find his prey before then. Yes, this time he would catch them.

The boy stood staring at the setting sun, tears streaming down his face. His raven haired brother had left him alone finally and so he stood, alone with the trees, the sky and the earth. He had never noticed before how comforting silence could be.

I will catch you, the man repeated like a mantra in his mind ignoring the darkening skies above. I will catch you this time. I will. Nothing will stop me. Nothing. "Do you hear me?" He suddenly shouted to the silent forest around him. "NOTHING!" Lightning cracked the sky as if in retort and thunder crashed in reply. Whether it was to him or the lightning he was unsure. Rain began one drop at a time, like a dance just beginning.

The rain fell softly at first then harder and harder. The boy stood letting it cover him completely. In a few moments he was soaked, his tear strained face hidden by a mask of rain. He smiled as he heard his name being called, but he did not reply. "Give me more time" he pleaded silently. "Please give me more time..."

The rain fell in torrents freezing the man. He ignored the warning signs his nerves were sending and bit his lips defiantly against the cold. Evening was coming but he did not care. This time he would keep going. He would follow the tracks to the end even if it killed him. His life had never seemed worth much anyway.

The boy sat in his room staring at the rain through his window. It didn't matter that it was he and not his brother who had been punished. It did not matter that his parents lectured him about wandering the woods alone. It did not matter that his brother gloated at him behind their parents back the whole way home. All that mattered was that he was finally alone. He was finally free, with only himself to be his judge.

The man finally broke through the thicket but in his fervor he lost his footing. He slipped swiftly down the hill, the ice adding speed dangerously. He refused to cry out as he tumbled head over feet down the side of the hill. His mind ceased dissecting his predicament as his body began responding instinctively. After several minutes of struggle he landed in a brown heap at the bottom, breathing hard.

"You think you're so special? You're just a useless pile of muscles, organs and bones. And those you can't even use well..." said the raven haired boy. His brother stared at him, eyes beginning to water. Friends of the raven haired boy surrounded him, watching, waiting, breath held as one. In the silence voices from all over the playground could be heard. Laughter, shrieks of delight, the sound of balls against pavement. The boy blinked.

It had taken him some time but he had found the tracks again. The sun was barely visible above the darkened edge of the earth. The moon had begun to shine overhead, claiming her dominion. Just a little longer, the man begged silently, just a little bit longer. His path had less twists and turns, as if his prey was getting tired. That makes two of us the man thought to himself. But as soon as I catch you I can stop searching. I can stop being afraid of your ever watchful eyes. The man had first become aware of his prey when he heard it taunting him, a disembodied voice replying to his. It was then that he began to notice the tracks following his own. Never one for expected responses, he had turned the tables, hunted had become hunter.

The boy laughed instead. He laughed harder and harder almost going into a manic frenzy. The raven haired boy stared at him in disbelief. His friends mumbled and backed away from the disconcerting laughter. The boy stared at his brother and kept laughing as hard as he could until his brother stalked, or was it fled, away. The boy's laughter became genuine, he had won. He had finally won. He kept laughing as the bell rang, commanding with a tone.

He burst through the pine trees and his triumphant smile faded. He collapsed, landing on his knees as he stared in disbelief. His knife slipped uselessly through his fingers becoming buried in the freezing mud. He had finally followed the tracks all the way. For the first time in his life he saw the home of his prey. A tent sat pitched haphazardly next to a small fire pit. Miscellaneous pots and pans surrounded the fire pit in a random pattern leading to the lake in the middle of the clearing. It was, in fact, the man's own encampment. He stared unable to deny the truth of it with any of his arguments. He had been tracking himself for three years. It was his own voice he had heard, echoing back to him through the trees, off the cliff faces and around the lakes. He was his own hunter, taunting himself, his own worst enemy. The stranger, even to himself.

--Madison Skye--

Dt

PS

How do you like the ghost written bio? It is a metaphor, but rather accurate in many ways. Also there are some hidden messages in the story itself, good luck to you in finding them.