The slap of running feet, muffled by the mist,
the rasping noise of air drawn deeply in my chest,
but beyond the sounds, nothing more exists,
no heat or cold or dampness as I move, fear possessed.
Like a reflection in window, there appears a faded clock.
I see the second hand circling the face
and yet there is no sound, no comforting “tick-tock,”
and the minute and the hour hands seem to remain in place.
Along the path I’m on I find no guiding signs.
One direction offers darkness, the other muted light.
These seem to be my choices, within these dark confines,
for I sense on either side only shadows in the night.
Suddenly I’m aware as the hands begin to creep
that I must make a choice before the hour’s chime.
Gaspingly I sit up, still half drugged from sleep.
Was it all a dream? My eyes dart toward the time.
Red numerals are flashing a message in the dark,
a countdown to midnight… four then three then two.
The room is painted black; the window is a lighted arc.
This all seems so familiar – a case of déjà vu?
Panic engulfs me. A decision must be made.
Unthinkingly I jump up and stumble toward the light.
“No!” my mind screams out but I can’t be delayed
and with a crash of glass I am falling through the night.
The slap of running feet, muffled by the mist…
Silver trophy winner
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