Modern Hercules

By: Bobby.
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​I had been running for God knows how long. My unfastened running shoes had long been forgotten in the frenzy as I stumbled between the arching peaks that loomed damningly in the moonlight. A low deep guttural rumble that I knew all too well sounded much closer than I had anticipated, promising to finish the demonic job it started back home.
 
I looked at my bloodied hands. Stark and mute images of their mangled bodies hanging on those sharp and obtuse horns haunted me, dripping accusingly on the family living room, stirring up that yellow bile that refused to nestle inside me. As I cleaned the last droplets from my aching mouth, I missed the angle on an irregular rock formation, and I hear a loud pop! followed by a scream that I swiftly suffocated.
 
I looked down at my entrapped foot and saw the unnatural figure it drew next to my shin. My heart beat frantically. I hastily yanked at it and hobbled in ever increasing despair. The snapping of branches and steady drum of barreling hooves foreshadowed the gracious coda of an exhausting and violent symphony.
 
I thought back on them one last time, knowing full well that I will never be able to hold them in my arms again, fighting back the hot tears that burned my face and eyes. In all this commotion, I saw, by the moon’s endearing design maybe, a silvery ray that drew my eye to a small hidden opening. I sneakily and graciously drew my aching body to the crevice which harkened my survival. But I had not yet drawn a breath of celebration when I saw his angry black eye and flashy horns thundering towards me. As it pierced me and red blood spurt from my mouth, I could see, in my last breaths, the liberating glint of the policeman’s bullet that chased me here.