Snippets and Stories: (I) Running

"With my physique I am not capable of running myself so ragged as to incapacitate myself. So I say 'one foot in front of the other' and 'just keep going', because it's not like it'll kill me to do so. I'm surrounded by civilization, what's the worst that will come from pushing the limits, if at all I am? If you've got the energy to be angry or sad, then you've got the energy to run."

Shir slipped on a scruffy, old, and weathered pair of sneakers, a solid color with no striking features nor brand, say for the ambiguous stain of grass and dirt. Yet they had carried her far. Farther than she would've believed was within her motivation.

All that was there in the cool night breeze though, was finding solid footing on the uneven pavement and road.

She kept it up for a good while. How long was irrelevant, Shir didn't keep track of the Time. The Time wasn't important.

But he wasn't tireless either, and his pace slowed. Sometime later, she was walking. The thoughts came back.

And he ran again before the anger could take hold.

And so it went again and again and still he could run. Tired, worn, and perspiring, until finally he had vented away the storm that had so driven them.

Neskyii came to her then, to remind her she had naught to show for it but her exhaustion, for she had yet to confront the difficult thoughts that lay in herself.

"It is not for strength that you run, but fear."

Shir paused.

"It is not your delusion of fortitude that drives you, but your cowardice."

And with that he was gone.

But the poltergeist's brevity had been enough to give her pause.

Whereas she saw it as strength, he saw it as weakness.

How easily things could be turned around, and certainly she could see why when quite literally she was running the frustrations away.

Yet it had been what kept her going, what gave her legs the strength to bring her farther than she ever could've gone without. It gave a release for the pent up anger. So that it would not weigh another down. With this she wouldn't need to confide.

Was it not the embodiment, to stand by one's own strength rather than the reliance on those whom have not the patience?

The storm returned, bringing with it fresh rain and thunder.

They wouldn't listen to her.

"Talk it out like adults." they said, when really their ears were long closed.

It would always, be her fault.

"I'm not saying just lie there and take it, voice your opinion, but just talk it out like adults."

So she had, and seeing the unyielding disposition, so obstinate as they were, would at last concede. Any more and it would be a spat, a fight.

Shir would bow her head, speak words that were but the very air, and walk away.

Yet Time and Time again, she made the same mistake, and had in someone her discontent.

Until at last he blew up at her.

In his eyes, he told her off for her petty squabbles. For the odd fights she would always pick.

To Shir, it was the God Emperor that was always so forceful, so convinced he was right, so prickly in his disposition that troubled her so.

It would not be her place to speak.

And soon it would not be her place at all.

They accepted it as the norm, and said, "Why can't you?"

Faulting her for desiring otherwise.

Shir shrugged. Words would help nothing now. There is nothing more helpless than knowing that everyone one does would but convict her.

Tilting her head up she took in the view of the quiet neighborhood.

And was off once more.

Truly, the world was quiet insane.