Monday, March 10, 2014

Out of the Woods

 I feel like that first victim in the first scene of a horror movie.   You know the one.  You see her racing through the woods, gasping for breath.  A close up on her face reveals blood trickling down her cheeks and eyes wide with fear.  The camera pans to her feet as she runs.  You see her stumbling over tree roots and slipping in mud.  She falls, which allows the killer to gain on her.  She scrambles to her feet, but it takes her an agonizingly long time to get herself organized again.  She starts to run again, frantic with fear, glancing behind her at the shadowed figure in pursuit.  She can see the edge of the woods just ahead.  She's almost there.  In the clearing is a large group of people around  a campfire, laughing and having a wonderful time.  If she can make it to them in time, she'll be safe.  You can see a shiny glimmer of hope flicker across her eyes.  Maybe she can do this after all.  She gives it her all and really pushes herself forward.   Just as she reaches the last line of trees, just when she's inches from freedom, a close up of her upper body shows her arching her back and twisting her face in pain and horror.  It's too late.  He's got her. His knife plunges into her back over and over and over again until she goes limp.   Grabbing her fallen body by her arm, he drags her away from the clearing in a trail of blood, the people by the campfire none the wiser. 

Kenley died at the edge of that clearing.  I thought I was home-free.  At that time, I didn't even know I was being chased.   I didn't know my baby was running out of time, that she would be snatched from me at the last second, that the killer would strike me down and leave me broken. 

Now, I feel like I am racing against the clock.  Like I am running, running, running towards a clearing I may or may not reach.   I am trying to keep my eyes on the prize - to keep myself focused on what lies ahead of me instead of what I feel is hot on my heels, but it is so hard.  It's so hard to imagine actually reaching that point, of being free of the woods and the killer behind me.  I can feel his breath on my neck, the tip of his knife scratching against the fabric of my shirt.   I am out of breath and exhausted, but I have to make it.  I have to!  Run!  Run!  Run!   

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