RAGE
(By William T. Lee)
Running through the thick woods in the dead of summer daylight. The pack of wolfs are coming for him, they have his scent. Branches slash his face and arms as he runs. The dripping sweat stings his eyes. He runs like the wind, each step is as deft as the next. In the distance behind him the pack is closes in.
The throbbing in his head increases with each panicked
stride. The pain was too great; he was going too far, too fast. It felt as if
his legs would collapse beneath him. He could run no more.
Stopping, not breathing so he could listen. The racing of his heart was in his
throat and the pounding was overwhelming. He turned around and sank to his knees.
It was all over; the ravenous wolves would have him. He could hear the
howling as it rang in his ears. There was nothing he could do.
He could now see the pack, at least ten of them.
'I'm trapped', he thought.
Then something deep in his soul took over. An explosive rage went through his body
like fire took to gasoline. He let out a horrifying yell that shook the essence of
mankind. The devil took notice, and God
cringed.
Moments passed, he listened again. There were no
wolves, no animals of any kind, everything was silent. He forced himself to calm
down. Sorrow welled up inside of him. 'It happened again.' He looked at
his hands; they were covered with blood. He looked around; the wolves lay scattered
in pieces all over the ground. An overwhelming sadness and defeat took over and he
fell on his knees and started to weep. Make it stop. Make it stop!