Hurry Home

Hurry Home

In the blessed light I'd be, if I had started earlier; instead I pass in the darkness with the sound of its coming echoing from the nearby trees in this sunken passage. Chosen for some purpose unknown, haunting and unclean, waiting to overtake me, to devour my very soul, something follows me. Its steps so deliberate, matching mine exactly, mocking, as if to say, "Slow your steps, or quicken them, it makes no difference."
Although fearful to hasten my steps as it may invite the horror that stalked at my very heels, I traversed this stretch at a rapid pace to rid myself of it. Too far into my journey to return to safety, I pressed on, each step in agony. With thoughts of loved ones weeping at my absence- Shell I never sleep in my own bed again! -I resigned myself to fight.
The sound was maddening, so precise, so set in mimicry of my own steps. To face it was terrifying, but I must-the torture of being pursued was too severe to bear. In anger, and fear I halted, waited its onslaught, but no movement was noticed, no sound, only the pounding of my heart. Its pursuit paused, waiting for me to turn. From depths never before ventured I summoned a primordial courage to turn, and face the monster, to be filled with bliss at my survival, or to find rest in dreamless sleep. After many moments of self-persuasion, I turned to see nothing, no sound, just the darkness of the night before me.
A feeling of hope set upon me, soon chased away with thoughts of its possible return before I could escape this forsaken trek of land. Swiftly I turned, and set feet to ground in rhythmic motion, as rapidly as one with the presumption that his very life depended on it. Racing toward a distant light, and the hope of safe haven, I heard the familiar sound. The monster had resumed its quest for my blood, endeavoring now in earnest to devour its prey.
Light from the windows of home shown brightly, the urgency to escape seemed even greater now. With the last of my energy spent, I raced into my home, and collapsed panting at grandpa's feet.
"Did my friend give you a small package for me?" grandpa asked.
I recalled the tiny tin box I had been given and retrieved it from my back pocket.
"What is in it?" I asked.
Grandpa grins, and replies, "Just a little hurry home marble."