There was a chill in the air but it wasn’t just because of the breeze. No, a buzz of excitement was all around. The excitement seemed misplaced but I couldn’t figure out why. Drums played in the distance, music could be minutely discerned, and the roar of a multitude of voices riveted down the dirt path I was on.
My eyes were heavy, my legs and arms ached, and my stomach growled as I stumbled up the rocky, dirt path. Two solid days of running from town to town and being chased by strangers can take a toll on a person.
The two chocolate bars and the 20 ounce coke, I found lying on the ground, long since had been consumed. Food was scarce and no one wanted to share. Trying to buy food and drinks and the special way you had to do it was an ordeal. Still, I don’t know why I was thrown out of the grocery store and chased by an angry mob.
I looked down at my once clean jeans and favorite blue shirt and I noticed that they were now ripped, covered with mud, and still ringing with water from when I fell into the creek, a few miles back. I must have cut my arms and legs, on the jagged rocks that were in the creek, because I could see signs of blood coming through my pants’ legs and shirt sleeves.