Running Home
Released under a Creative Commons Attribution No Derivatives license on the 17th of October, 2009 (written in 2006). You may distribute this work commercially and non-commercially, as long as it stays unaltered, due credit is given to the author, and the author is informed of the publication.
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Two years in the calmness of the city had made Henry a "new boy", as Aunt Julia had remarked upon their arrival to the village. Henry had started to immobilise in the dullness of his room, in their house; and his mother knew that this was going to lead to his undoing. That is why she had suggested they visit the village again - for Henry's sake.
The young boy in his street-wear and with a snow-white music player in his left hand now appeared in the doorway and with a sulky pout left on his face, for the elders, he headed out the front door. His mother did nothing but shake her head in disapprovement.
"They were going to tell him what to do! Or force him to go with them wherever they want! It was not going to happen - he was gonna put an end to it!" As Henry contemplated his actions, a beautiful view - like one from a documentary on the television - opened before him. How it had snuck its way there, he had no idea.
A blooming field with grass of green and plants of all colours, decorated with distant, happy trees and here-there some shrubbery. Only a bright blue horizon could make it perfect; and in fact, it did. His eyes could not believe his amazement. What he had thought of before was all but important, and now he felt his mind emptied, and fresh for revolutionary new ideas. But he walked on casually, pretending none of this had happened, and plugged his music player into his ears to listen to pre-made thoughts that would fill his mind again with heavy burden.
He had just walked past a small bush when suddenly - for his amazement - he had noticed it rattle. Now it had stopped, and curiously, he plucked the music player out of his ears again to listen carefully. A new sensation had risen from the depths within. He was feeling the fresh joy of pure curiosity once again. He waited, then started half-circling the bush, looking into its branches carefully and trying to find the source of such excitement.
At once, out of the depths it flew before his eyes - so suddenly that he had backed away to half-lying on the ground - and a small brown rabbit sprinted right away and into the deep grass, out of sight.
He watched it disappear as yet a new feeling had taken over him. He lay on his back in the prickly grass, breathing deep, breathing in the scent of life. He enjoyed the gladness from within that opened his senses to his amazing environs and filled him with activity.
Now, more than ever, he felt the need to move. He rose to his feet and wanted to run, to roll and jump in the grass along the hills and fields until he could run no more. His legs obeyed his involuntary directions and he was sweeping down the hill, following the Wind on its endless journey, accompanying him with endless thoughts, or thoughts that were never really meant to end; but return with time to show us over and over again, what it feels to live so, to live freely.
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The snow-white music player lay in the grass next to the small shrub, and a little grey lizard had found it just ideal to stand on, while baking in the midday sun.
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