He was aimless on the edge of a new dawn, freedom like he had never known. He never thought about summer ending. It was like he was exempt from all of the consequences and afflictions of the world.
On a bright summer day, aimlessness suddenly dissipated. His impulse was at its highest in the toxic smoke of a thick and heavy summer night. He pushed all of his chips into the center of the table. Fearlessly, he went for it. His endless energy supply fueled his fight to take any chance he wanted.
He picked her up during a hide speed chase. He thought he was just so clever and thought it was all him. Really, though, nothing was in his control. It wasn’t him. It was her. Death masks itself as freedom, and it plays it so well.
If only it were a movie I could watch now, I would cry and scream at the screen, "Get out of there!" He would not listen if he could hear across the celluloid barrier. Even though he was free in every other sense of the word, he was still bound by the shackles of youth. Those can be the most formidable.
The night before the dagger was plunged into his entire existence, he had a moment of clarity, but it was on a misty, dream-like ride to work late at night. Sister Ann sang a haunting tune about perfect strangers. It was a cry, and he knew it. Don't cross the river. Don't board this plane. Stay here. Run... The tone of her voice still chills him today every time he hears it.
Run, you stupid boy, RUN.
As the sun rose, he stood at the canyon's edge in the foggy morning. Proud and pleased with what he was about to do. He leaned into it, muscles tensed, and he sprinted as though fired from a cannon. The edge came fast. He stepped off at velocity. Expecting flight, he plunged. Nothing felt like it should. He was not where he thought he should be.
He landed in familiar places but found the math was off. The laws of physics were no longer constant. He knew he had crossed into another dimension. He was innocently standing in public on a cool fall morning and suddenly was ambushed by someone he did not know. A glimmer of light appeared on the floor; it was a dusty sword others had dropped because they would no longer carry it. He took hold of it, held it up, and suddenly found words he did not possess moments earlier. Where did this come from? He knew deep down that the power he had been given in the mantle light was it, and he wanted to return again and again.
Hungry, he did what he always did, but this time, it only gave way to shame. Things were different now. He had no plan and no wisdom here. The last time he had been on a journey like this, there were only 3 walls. Leaving was always easy. Today, there were four walls and no doors or windows.
Attackers came in so many forms. The kings had banished him from one land after another. He fought in city after city, numbing the pain of his choices in the night. As the season grew old, he fought even harder. He was running out of clever tricks. His energy was involuntary, spinning with that sword every day, doing what had to be done to make it through. The road was ending soon; there would be no place to go. Where was he going? How could he change it? As magnificent as he was at so many things, he pushed everything beyond its limits many times.
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