A damp night signals my bones to shift. Careening into branches with dirt cascading from my hands.

It feels good, freeing and serine. The ability to travel in the night unencumbered by pretence or thought.

The nights are new, the smell of the dew; the light I can now perceive. Unfathomable before to me it is now as natural as the tide.

My muscles ebb and flow with paranormal energy pushing me onward.

Recollection fails hours into my run, the beginnings of dawn mark the end of this fleeting haven.

The moon has faded and I lay unsure what blood stains my now imperfect body. For now I don’t care…the satisfaction still tangible.

My ears dull, a welcome solace as the woeful screeching of a mother is heard. I will not think of this come mid-day. But she should thank me.

Her old daughter could never run like me.