Anthony Antoine

The Burial Wall Anthony Antoine

Henry began to panic. He started to walk a little faster, then faster yet, then to trot. He began to smell the incense again. He started to run, first slowly then much faster, sweat pouring from his body The figure was still under the light and the mobile home was not receding into the distance as it should. It couldn't move but it seemed to be keeping pace with him. His nerves on edge and the scent of the incense and the incessant humming began to disorient Henry. He began to labor as he ran faster and faster, feeling the tightness and sharp cramping of fatigue and the breathlessness in his chest and legs as he continued running toward the town. He fell several times. Each time he felt the sharp shock of pain as the road surface tore away the flesh at his knees and elbows. His hands were scraped and bloody. His head was spinning and his chest seemed ready to burst gasping for more air. Henry was overcome and could run no more. He crumpled as a sweating, gasping heap....onto the dusty ground... Under the dangling light bulb...right outside the fortune teller's front door, the very place he was trying to run away from.