The captors set out on their mission, and I was so small. They hunted, I hid, and I ran. Through the years with great agility, I shook them off my trail, but they would soon return, because they always knew where I would turn up. They had the advantage of remembering the attack that I would never recall, but only feel.
Summer days, the water glistening like diamonds in my eyes, the laughter and sounds of a world not at war. Nothing mattered when you came down the old hill, the maple trees and the Wildcat keeping watch as we approached. She sat there since arriving in 1927, her watch faithful and true. We stode past her watchful eye on the way to the beach.
If someone could hear my thoughts, they would know how hard I tried. It was 1973, and transistor radios sat on the beach as Jim sang about the rise and fall of Leroy Brown, and Wings marked a change with Live and Let Die. I could hear the carousel music as I sat in the sand, and I could see and feel its movements even though I was not looking. I stood in the water, and it pulled on me, wanting to do terrible things. I tried to relate and understand, but the predator would not relent.
There were many personal days in which I got up early and embarked on missions that I believed there was no coming back from. But I was determined, the beast would be hunted and taken down, and it would be slung over my shoulder by day's end as I walked back into the village at dusk.
In my controlled simulations, I could never find the upper hand. I knew that I could only prove myself in the rage of battle. As sure as the immovable things are in all the earth, this was something that I could not move. It was the one thing that could truly set me free and also be my end.
The antagonist found me again yesterday. It was like saying the words "old friend" as we each had rifles aimed at each other. Still strong and formidable, I yielded because I had not seen such intensity in so many years. But I could not let it rest. That is not who I am. My scars run deep, and I have fought so hard for so long. I defiantly came back to the table, squared off with the dealer of this reign of terror, and told him, I am not done yet.
Young or old, I have this belief that this could be the key to untying so many knots. Perhaps I am as much of a menace to the hunter. I fear I will never know. Because our encounters are so spread out over the years, all progress disappears into the fading of time, and I am that kid on the shore of Compounce again, trying to beat something that I don't understand.
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