The Reunion - A short story

Hi all. Sorry about the brief interlude. Have been engaged in the all the non-writing business of writing - bothering agents, not winnning competition, sending pieces to magazines that no-one reads - but back now, and hopefully with some new-exciting site additons. However, until then here's another little piece.



The Reunion

Many people have told me that running focuses the mind. It has something to do with the balancing of the brain, where fatigue and effort are countered by a rush of endorphins, and it gives everything a bright, newly painted clarity. You wake in the morning a shivering mess of neurosis and stride-stride-stride your way into a pre-breakfast enlightenment, whole, happy and rounded with the brush of Raphael.
I wonder then, what to make of the events of last Wednesday morning when I went my first run since my girlfriend had died a year before.

It all started in the normal way. I woke up, cleaned my teeth, drank a cup of strong coffee, looked in the mirror, ignored the three faces sobbing and laughing and then ran out of the door.
The rhythm took a long time to build. The pavement sent vibrations through my bones and my insides began to churn and boil like an acid tank. The morning fog froze as I inhaled, crackling through my lungs before I coughed it out with explosion of pain.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Then, as I turned off the road, passed the field of miniature ponies, and into the nature reserve, I felt my mind start to clear. Here it was. A rush of soothing atoms. Syrup through the arid brain.
Suddenly the grass turned an oily green and the trees and lush leafy auburn. Mud became the pastel of an artist’s easel and the sun expanded into a mirror of heaven.
Light.
Light.
All is light and clear.
A heard of cows formed in a line in front of a trough of apricots and bananas. They lapped at the sugary mush, covering their snouts with ambrosial trifle, and started to talk with colloquial moos.
‘Moo-moo-moo mooooo.
Moo.
Moo moo.
Looks like a nice day.
Any plans for the weekend?’
My legs strode along the footpath, light as the fog as it evaporated in the sunlight, and floated through a gate to the river that flowed to the city.
The water gushed with morning effervescence, steaming with sweat as it dashed towards the finish. I ran with it – gush, gush, gush, ripple-ripple-ripple. Soon we became one person, a moving expression of nature, focused on our goal.
Then, as my legs meandered around a bend, I saw a hundred fish leaping from the water. They had great big eyes, like platters of diamond, and jaws as sharp as the assassin’s dagger.
Snap.
Snap, snap, snap.
Blood and spittle dripped from their tongues and their scales gleamed with silver armour. They had killed.
Snap.
And they could kill me.
Snap.
Running.
Ha!
Running.
Ha!
Snap.
Snap, snap, snap.
Pssshhhh.
One at a time they melted into the air and then disappeared.
Snap-snap.
Snap-snap.
Snap.
Sn.
Sssss.
Sssss.
Sssss…
The fog cleared and I kept on running.
Then something truly unexpected happened. I ran to the end of the river and onto the road and I saw her, stood by the front gate, waiting for me. Her eyes glinted in the light and her teeth curved into a smile, the same smile from years of white sheets and happiness.
‘Hey,’ she said, opening her arms. ‘Where have you been all this time?’
I looked at her eyes, blue and clear as the sky over the ocean.
‘I’ve been out for a run,’ I said.
‘You were gone for a while.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I’m back now.’
Her arms wrapped around my back, warmed by the blood flowing from my heart.
‘Don’t leave me again.’
Then we turned and went back into the house, arm in arm.

Was this clarity? Had the endorphins balanced my brain? Was this the real world?
I didn’t care.