Run

James's feet slid and skidded on the thin forest pine needles. He ducked behind a dark redwood tree and looked behind him; the shadow was closing in. He tried to think of an idea but the shadow was now enveloping the tree in its dark mass. James pulled out a small stone from his pocket and threw it behind him. The shadow darted away looking for more movement. James didn’t waste any more time. He sprinted to another giant redwood and skillfully scaled the trunk, heaving himself over the large branches, ignoring the scrapes and scratches. When James reached the top of the swaying tree, he saw the strawberry light seeping beyond the horizon; he needed to get home. 

After about 30 minutes, James slid down the tree, carefully avoiding the branches that had scratched him earlier. Landing on the ground with a soft thud, he walked cautiously around the trees looking for any sign of the shadow that had been following him. Nothing. 

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the shadows of the trees grew larger and longer, like slowly extending claws. His stalker could now follow him without being seen. James had to be vigilant. His feet padded softly on the ground as he followed the familiar track he had run along so many times. Worrying thoughts rattled around in his head. Am I safe? Is it following me? Can I make it home? 

Up ahead, the light of the village shimmered through the trees like a beacon. He started to jog, then broke into a run. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he sensed movement behind him. He picked up the pace, not daring to look back. But it was too late. The shadow was upon him, its hands angrily grasping at the air. Too late. James saw a log shining on the path ahead. He tried to turn to avoid it but the log’s slick slippery surface blocked his way. He tripped, fell, slid, and finally tumbled to a stop. The shadow slowed down and stood mockingly above him. “It’s over,” the shadow rasped, reaching for James’ head. James felt cold, wet fingers closing over his scalp.

“Tag, you're it,” chuckled the shadow, shrinking down to the size of his twelve-year-old friend Dylan. 

Laughing, James slowly heaved himself up, brushed the dirt from his jeans, and started to chase Dylan home. laughing. The hunted had now become the hunter. Game on!