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The Absence of Weakness

The dark-skinned youth ran through the nightmarish-woods, sharp branches piercing his skin. Droplets of blood appeared on his arms; he ignored the red liquid even though it was tempting to rub it off. But he could not, because rubbing it off would show weakness. And he was not weak. At all. The loose branches continued to scratch his arms as if they were reaching out to the boy and trying to hold him back. Every tree seemed to be yelling to “Turn around!” and “Go back!” That did not help considering actual yells were catching up to him. This chase had been going on for hours now, but the men still had not given up. They did not give up last time, and they had been able to find him. But he was not going to let them win this time. A tree’s root was sticking up and the child’s foot got caught on it, causing it and the body attached to it to fall forward. The boy let out a shriek and attempted to get up, but found his ankle hurt too much when he tried to put pressure on it. In the end, he succumbed to the pain and fell face forward onto the ground. The dirt crawled into his mouth and made him cough and gag. Sounds of shouting reached his ears and he buried his face in the dirt again, hoping to remain invisible. While holding his breath, his exhaustion caught up to him, and his mind faded away while someone crept up next to him.




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