little rabbit

‘Run little rabbit’ she shouted from the distance.

Her favourite game.

She’d be the fox as she was older

And I’d be the rabbit.

‘Run little rabbit’ she shouted even closer to me.

So I ran

I ran as fast as the wind could take me.

Till the cold air felt sharp on my cheeks.

Turning my pale complexion into a pink stain,

Still I ran.

She chased me up and down the corn fields,

Through the prickling bramble bushes;

Until I felt my breath growing short.

My lungs tighten.

I kept running.

I felt her gaining on me.

Her arm reaching out and clinging on my dress,

I could feel the seams of the shoulder tear behind me.

She wasn’t usually this rough;

Now I knew I couldn’t stop.

So I ran more.

My face was no longer a pink but now a brutal shade of red

And I felt hot,

Dizzy,

Faint even.

Again she grabbed my dress this time grabbing on to me,

But this time I fell back into her arms.

She moved my head so I could see what I was heading to and I saw the edge;

The edge of what I was running towards.

A steep drop.

She said ‘don’t run little rabbit, please don’t run’

And I stopped running.