The Game

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The silence of the night is defining,
The darkness is suffocating as I sit crouched beside a ghost white propane tank.
The moon, a beacon in the darkness, hangs dutifully in the sky.
I sit calm as a pond on a clear spring morning.
There I see it, the beam of light searching for me…….
I feel as my body begins to tense.
The crash I hear is like a cannon going off over peaceful terrain.
I can taste the salty sweat that is running down my face.
No longer as a dove,
I am ready to jump even if it means defeat.
They are close; I can smell the smoke that clings to them like dew on a leaf.
I jump, flailing my arms and shrieking like a crazed banshee.
The two figures yelp and fall over as if they are trees in a strong wind.
I feel a sting on my cheek as I lean forward to see them.
I pull back quickly, confusion drenching my brain.
A rose bush, that’s what stands between me and my foes.
A single thorn has pricked my cheek.
My battle wound, small yet sufficient.
I see the figures their fear has turned to delight and laughter.
A voice from the darkness says, “I can’t believe you got us.”
I just smile, then sprint away ready to play again.





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