PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I ran. It was moments before daybreak and the dark mist of the night prior still lingered in the atmosphere. And I ran through the heavily filled forest flushed with greens and brown. The cool air whips through my hair, my shirt, and my whistles in my ears. I smell the crisp fresh breeze of the early spring morning as tears of sweat roll down my face. And I ran.
At first, I didn’t know why I was running. It seems like I have been running forever. I am not tired, my adrenaline is running too high. I don’t know where I was running to, or what I will do once I get there, I just know that I have motivation to run on.
A cry filled the air. I suddenly remember why I am running. Constance is chasing me. Constance was behind me. For the first time in all of my dreams, I was able to move even though I could see her face in my head. I was moving very well, but I still haven’t said anything. Satisfaction finally fills me. In all of my previous dreams, Constance had already been there. She had already had me. She’s not here now. I am free. The pressure of her presence is here, but not her and there’s no way she can catch me now. I feel unstoppable, so I smile and laugh to the skies.
I suddenly trip, which sends me tumbling down. I don’t know why I fell, maybe because my coordination isn’t exactly in tact. I didn’t have a cramp, I just seemed to slip.
I lay here on the cold and damp ground. My adrenaline is running out, and my lack of breath caught up with the rest of my body. I stare toward the sky, but it was blocked from the canopy of trees.
I try to sit up, and as I did I froze. I see her, and her actual presence paralyzes me. Constance caught up with me.
She stood over me with a rock hard glare that she had owned forever. “You are quite a runner Marcella. Remember when you were little and you couldn’t hardly stand without falling?” She laughs at her pleasant memory.
I snap out of my paralyzing shock. I stand up and try to run off again.
Sure enough, Constance’s sweet moment was over. So the pain comes. As I take off, Constance grabs my hair and yanks me back down to the earth. This time, I won’t get up.
She sat over me again, then crouches to my level. She stares at me as I’m gasping in pain from my head. She pulls out her hands to show my her nails. They were long, pointed and painted my favorite color: red.
“Aren’t they gorgeous? They are for decorating.” She gentley pulls up my jean’s pants leg to my knee on my right side.
Again, I try to move. Her grip tightened on my calf, stopping me. She places her hand at the slope of my knee cap, then she slowly began to force her nails into my flesh.
My screams began, but that didn’t phase her. She clawed her way down my calf muscle and to my ankle before she stopped.
I look at my leg, and I see blood flowing steadily out of the open gash. Constance’s last words to me tonight were “Watch out.” with one last creepy smile.
I awake from the sound of those words. I am breathing hard like always but I feel something different. I feel something cold rolling down my leg.
I lift up my pajamas and gasp at the sight of a cut running down my right leg bleeding. Am I still dreaming?
I realize now I’m not. This is no dream. I was really here, in my room, with a scratch down my leg that came from nowhere.
No; it came from Constance.