Flames of the Dark

Down the hallway I sprint,

Past the lock doors, 

The dead end passages,

Darkened windows,

Slipping along the fresh wax,

Moving quickly,

He is coming.

He is behind me,

His pace is steady and deliberate,

The clacking of his black shoes,

His footsteps echoing down,

Coming closer,

I fear him.

I see the elevators at the end of the hall,

The end of the run is coming,

The bars that barricade my way,

Halt my path,

Impeding my escape.

I jerk on them,

I hear the banging as my efforts are in vain,

I look for a way,

Another path,

An escape,

The barred windows?

No good,

The barred hallway?

Nyet.

Face my fear?

About the only way.

I find an open closet,

I break a broom handle,

I take the longer piece,

I begin to bactrack,

Hopefully I can find my way,

Before I run into my fear.

My run comes to a halt,

I can still see the hallway bars,

But the clacking has fallen in front of me,

I ready my impromptu weapon,

Twisting it in my hands,

Getting a feel for the wood.

The man scares me,

He is an enemy unlike any other,

I can only see shadows in the dark,

I see his feet barely, 

Reflected by the lunomium of the moon,

Somehow, 

I feel the coldness of the air condition,

I can see my breath as well as my enemy’s,

His face remains obscure,

It is the unknown that frightens me the most.

He holds up his hand sideways,

With his fingers bent,

And it seems that a fire is lit,

That flames emanate from his hand.

And as if through spoken word,

Though none was heard,

Flames shot forth from his bent hand

Flying flames struck my weapon,

My stick burst and combusted,

Out of my hand it fell.

I was taken back into custody,

I could not fight against that,

I could not live against that,

He only used one hand,

I wonder what he might have done,

With two.