Road less Travelled
My dogs were running ahead of me, straining against their leads. It was getting dark, and trains lit like elongated glow worms rumbled over my head like moving earthquakes.
Twilight, a word now too readily associated with the bastard children of Nosferatu and Dracula, is an eerie time, when the light is the shade of purple one mostly associates with bruises and the sun like a vast dull orange sliding down a grey wall. The bike path that snaked next to the creek is out of sight from the train station that lay just a quarter of a mile ahead and I couldn’t stop looking behind me for men with strangler’s hands.
One hand gripping the twin leads, the other stuffed in my pocket and fingering a lone cigarette (I had taken three with me and was determined to resist finishing them all off) my mind was plotting escape routes and guessing how fast and how far I could run if chased.
My pace didn’t quicken, though perhaps my breath did as I imagined...
Imagined.
Sometimes, an active imagination can be a bad thing, for by the time I had reached my door I had already seen my funeral.
Twilight, a word now too readily associated with the bastard children of Nosferatu and Dracula, is an eerie time, when the light is the shade of purple one mostly associates with bruises and the sun like a vast dull orange sliding down a grey wall. The bike path that snaked next to the creek is out of sight from the train station that lay just a quarter of a mile ahead and I couldn’t stop looking behind me for men with strangler’s hands.
One hand gripping the twin leads, the other stuffed in my pocket and fingering a lone cigarette (I had taken three with me and was determined to resist finishing them all off) my mind was plotting escape routes and guessing how fast and how far I could run if chased.
My pace didn’t quicken, though perhaps my breath did as I imagined...
Imagined.
Sometimes, an active imagination can be a bad thing, for by the time I had reached my door I had already seen my funeral.