Running From A Distance

PROLOGUE -- THE RISE OF THE STORM

"Rainy days as I urge my fingers to jot

Down, words so lovingly devastating; that

I should swell beneath this body; alas

To rise again; with the slightest spark; that

Love is there to all."

Chapter I -- what a storm!

From a great distance, one could see contrasts. The nearer silhouettes, those of a man and a woman, were clearly outlined and almost pitch black. What light which remained in the background accentuated the unmistakable contours of a man. His height was made more apparent by his broad shoulders and hips. The other, whose existence he was unaware of, was of a woman. Her petite figure which accommodated a generous cleavage was a feature of contrasts.

The man and woman were a few metres apart from each other and were standing on the top of the hill studying the serene yet, at the same time, lively view of the sunset. Colours were swishing and swashing along the last remnants of day. Both felt languid and in the flow. The creamy blue sky had only a tinge of colour on its palette, yet such understatement only heightened its presence. The skies were a harbinger of the morrow; always there no matter what. They were hypnotized by the dark clouds drifting by.

The wind blew softly; then brushed at their shoulders. A myriad of strong, fiery colours appeared. The sun was putting up a final valiant show before turning to the other side of the world. Its intensity stuck home. They both felt home here and were absorbed in their own world. No thoughts. Just a deep sense of peace. A marvellous emptiness. She had always watched the sunset; while it was his first time today. She felt warm and cared for by forces of nature. He, in turn, felt a sense of certainty.

They both knew that when night fell, they would go home and about their routine. Life so far had been a series of plateaus. She rather thrived in this routine. He had rather not, but was just not sure if he could afford to be spontaneous.

Impermanence is the only constant in life. A thick fog was enveloping the hill. The wind transitioned from a gentle brushing of the shoulders to wilderness and strength; almost demanding attention. She felt; rather than saw; her hair blowing into her face. She shivered from its sharp chill. He felt; rather than saw; his shawl being blown forward; causing the roughly shaved stubble on his chin to itch. He clenched his teeth.

The rain came pouring in carelessly. Definitely not the dainty type which made for idealized romances under an umbrella. The blunt drops were like hammers. The ground shook a little. The rain uprooted some loose soil and the big hill became muddy. Visibility was poor. Thicker was the fog.

She started to run again; not noticing that there was another. He started to walk again; not noticing that there was another. She was glad that she knew every nook and corner of the hill. She knew where the moles had dug their holes. She knew where the sharp drops were. She sought to avoid them now. He strained his eyes to see where he was going. It was not easy for him.

The universe works in mysterious ways. Fate led to a chance encounter. Both came from their initial positions a few metres apart towards the exact same position when they tried to descend the hill. They crashed into each other.

He was jolted in an unpleasant way, as he felt a smaller figure crash into his chest. It was warm and for a brief moment, he felt its pounding heart. Shocked and caught unguarded, he lost his balance. He fell backwards; his mind in agony as to the nature of the creature which attacked him. Alert, he did what he could with his hands. He sought to push the creature away with his hands.

What he did was futile due to the slippery slope of the hill. The creature was on top of him; rather huge for a wild cat and rather small for anything else he could think about. He knew there were no other wild animals here. For a split-second, both were motionless at the slope. Though the rain, he heard a gasp and felt fidgety movement on top of his chest as the creature regained the capacity for movement.

Quickly he sought to outmanoeuvre the creature. His military training had provided him with excellent skills. Agile on his side, he rolled over and was about to pound the creature with his bare hands when though the fog, he saw her through a film of crushing rain. Stunned at her being just human, he gasped.

"What the heck." He yelled.

Her long, wavy hair was all over her face and he could make out a lovely figure with terrified eyes.

She could barely open her eyes through the rain. She blinked all her way down. She had always been sensitive to natural changes around her, and in times of rain, sometimes she ran feeling the terrain with her other senses rather than opening her eyes. She had been coming here for ten years now, and she could find her way blindfolded. Never would she trip over those mole hills or sudden steep slopes.

She knew something hit her, and she felt an attack coming up. She knew they both hit the ground, rolled over and someone was hovering above her now. Upon looking up, she saw huge fists about to strike. An attack was imminent. The man was yelling at her. She acted spontaneously. She used her elbows to shield herself.

"Wait, wait! I have money." She shouted.

Without waiting for a reply, she tried to free herself from his predatory position. She tried to roll herself down the slope through any space she could get. She succeeded. She went down a few metres; her body sliding down when she kicked the loose soil. This action made the slippery ground give way.

Her assailant started rolling after her. He was on slightly higher ground and need not have tumbled down yet he mimicked her actions. All he wanted to do was reach out and pull her upwards, against the gravitational flow.

He wanted to grab her; to stop her from rolling down to the bottom of the hill. Without thinking, his spontaneous reaction was to tumble down with her. His motives were very different from a second ago. He wanted to help her up, to tell her it was a mistake. She was human; not a wild cat on the loose as he thought she was.

She punched and kicked him. She did not have much force in her attack; yet it was so haphazard and random that he felt defenceless. He was beginning to think of her a threat.

He winced at her punch at his chin and her kicks at his torso. Yet he did not strike back.

"Stop, damn it! I am helping you!" He yelled.

When she heard those remarks, she paused on a punch that was midway to his chin again (for she had only reached his chin due to their unconventional position on the ground). He took her hesitance as the opportunity to lift her up so that she faced him. For what seemed an eternity, they both scrutinized the other intensely; shocked by the sudden turn of events.

"Are you not going to do something to me?" She asked.

She spoke slowly while trying to catch her breath.

He shook his head. What a strange woman! She might as well be a wild cat!

He was mesmerized by the slight lilt of her voice. It held an air of defiance.

He was flabbergasted at what came out next.

"Why then did you attack me?" She asked.

Attack her? Was it not that she swirled into him like a mini tornado?

Within a minute, his emotions went from amazement to mesmerisation to acute exasperation. He was hardly ever - in fact; never ever accused of such preposterousness before. He had saved her life! She would have rolled down and died, for all he cared.

"You blind idiot, you crashed into me. I saved your life! You were rolling down like crazy." He raised his voice so as to be heard over the crashing thunder.

Mostly he yelled too because he had never felt such indignation in his whole life.

"I certainly did not. You crashed into me, you clumsy moron. I was escaping from you. I did not need you to save me." She yelled back.

She in turn, yelled, simply because he was yelling. She also felt the need to answer something equivalent to "blind idiot".

She was conscious that he was big in stature and could easily hurt her. Yet her self-dignity was threatened. She prided herself being rational, and to be called blind or idiot was painful. She was also very certain she did not crash into him.

He felt a stab being called a moron. Clumsy he did not mind so much. It was an excuse he could use up to his advantage. Sometimes women revelled in his so-called clumsiness. It made him very endearing to him. He would end up cosying up to them. Yes, he felt that he did know women well. This one was just crazy!

The rain was getting heavier by the second. At the same time, lightning flashed and struck into the tree nearby. Its brightness startled the both of them.

"Run, run!" He yelled.

He pulled her hand. This time she did not resist. A fleeting thought dashed through her mind that if she were to die, at least she was not alone.

They both ran down the hill. This time, there was a common foe. They heard the breaking of a branch and something thudding hard on the ground. The impact made the hill shake. The ground shook despite their nimble movements. They ran, sliding and slipping all the way, till they reached the bottom of the hill.

Then they turned back to look. The branch of the chestnut tree was on the slope, precariously slanting. It looked like it could roll down the hill anytime.

"We should leave. It's not safe." She yelled now.

She gradually pulled her hands away from his grasp. She took one last look at him. He was all covered in mud and rain. So was she. Feeling as dirty as could be, she took her leave awkwardly by running down the straight pathway shaded by chestnut trees on either side. He watched till he could no longer make out her figure in the foggy rain. Then he ran the same path. He felt a displeasure. It tugged at his heartstrings and he felt as though that woman was making fun of him.

What a strange experience, he thought. The wild cat was actually a woman!

..

CHAPTER II -- HOW NICE IT IS TO HAVE A CIVIL CONVERSATION!

The next morning, the municipal council was informed by the neighbourhood watch that part of the chestnut tree had fallen during the freak storm of yesterday. A crane and a tractor were sent to the scene to clear up the fallen branch. It was a miracle that the huge branch did not roll down the hill. Part of it was caught in a deep mole hill at a forty-five degree angle. Thank the moles, said the mayor of the town in one of his more interesting speeches of his tenure. Photos of the near disaster were posted on various social media websites and published in print media. You see, nothing much ever happens in this peaceful neighbourhood at the edge of the forest. This situation created by the storm gave neighbours something to bond about instead of the usual crops.

Many curious onlookers visited the site for the next few days until the hype surrounding it died. She had avoided the forest during these days, as she was generally camera-shy, did not like reporters and just wanted to run in peace without people obstructing her run around the area.

She appeared for her run one week later after all the commotion had died down. By then, she was feeling miserable as she had missed her runs. Running was the one constant in her life and it was her breath of fresh air. During the days she did not run, she did jumping exercises to imitate the movement of running. This she did in the comforts of her flat in the outskirts of the city. She was conscious of it though as she lived on the third floor and wondered how much jumping the floors could take before one fussy neighbour complained about the floor boards hitting their ceiling.

She came to the forest feeling fresh and energetic. She ran slowly at first and then slowly picked up her pace. She ran round the lake a few times. She admired the beauty of the waterlily leaves in the lake. The flowers would take some time to bloom yet. She felt trepidation at the coming of summer. She loved this place. It made her feel at home. She was a foreigner and found it difficult to make friends here. Despite the ten years she had lived here, she knew only a handful of people. Most people were just too busy to be bothered to really know her. Plus, she was really quiet and shy. Therefore she found that if she attached herself to places instead of people, she would not experience loneliness. The place was always going to be there for her, no matter what. Nature especially; the trees, the lake, the hills. In fact, they changed their colours for her. She liked to think that. They were her friends. They entertained her and showed her that they cared in a magical way. It gave her a sense of belonging when she thought like that.

He too avoided the forest for a week. He was not interested in potential media attention. Furthermore he was apprehensive of his encounter with the strange woman. He did not know exactly, but he felt that if he were to meet her again, she would accuse him of something else. He did not find her dangerous though. On the contrary, he found her to be all nuts. No one had managed to arouse into him such displeasure. No one except her. His ego was bruised, and he was not used to that.

He spotted her from where he was; at a parallel route from amongst the shrubs and not so dense foliage. It was spring and vegetation was still sprouting freshly from the ground. She was on that same pathway canopied by chestnut trees. She was running down the path; about 200 metres in length without a care in the world. Although he could not see her face from the front, he saw that she had a slight curve in her lips. Well, at least, she was in a good mood today, he thought. A voice told him to avoid this strange woman. Nothing good could come out of it.

Yet against his better judgment, he came out from the parallel path when she was just about to run around the lake at the end of the canopied path. When she heard random footsteps, she seemed to be more aware of her surroundings. She had not expected anyone to be there from the parallel path as it was darker, narrower and some people said possibly unsafe.

She almost ran past him quickly, but then she recognized him.

"You." She said, puffing a little while gesturing at him.

She was just as agitated. Her heart started pounding harder, and it had nothing to do with her running.

"Yes, me." He said, being all coy suddenly.

He wanted to gauge her reaction towards him. He could charm all women, except nutty ones.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

Belatedly she thought that she should not have asked this question. Surely he had a right to be in the forest. It was a small nature reserve. By now, she knew that he was just a clumsy moron who crashed into her by accident. He had meant no harm. He was however, a terribly rude person. He had called her blind idiot! She consciously disregarded the part where she felt safe when he held her hands while they were running down the hill. Well, he was still rude. Nothing changed that!

"I came for a walk. This is part of the nature reserve in this town, not your private property, Madam." He said.

He had a twinkle in his eyes. But he tried to not to smile.

His intentions were not entirely benevolent. He wanted to see her getting all worked-up. It was not exactly pay-back time though. He could not fathom why exactly he liked to gauge her reaction towards him.

She eyed him curiously. She could not tell if he was sarcastic, serious or deadpan rude.

"What happened last week was an epic adventure, was it not?" He asked.

She was not sure how to answer that question in a proper manner which gave her the advantage of being right without hurting his feelings.

"It's not every day a woman, seemingly in distress; falls into my arms and then rolls me over a hill, then beats me up to pulp." He said.

"You were very much alive and kicking when last I saw you." She retorted, trying to keep as civil as possible.

"Sometimes the injuries we suffer are unseen to the eye." He said in the saddest tone he could muster.

He was amused when her eyes narrowed down on him, scrutinizing his entire body. He felt a sudden thrill zapping through from head to toe.

"Where do you hurt?" She asked then.

He brought one hand to his chest.

"Here. I am bruised and tender. Have you forgotten that you punched and kicked my chest like a wild animal?" He asked.

He appeared to grimace a little while holding his chest.

She looked troubled. She narrowed the gap between them, and almost brought her hands to touch him where his hands were, when she hesitated.

"May I?" She asked.

He nodded, looking straight into her eyes. He saw an infinite depth in her eyes. It was like the depths of her soul were neither inviting nor pushing him away. There was a detachment in her somewhat. He knew then that she was not trying to be funny.

Her hands grazed his. They were somewhat icily cold. No wonder she looked so pale. A bit of colour could have made such a difference. Despite having olive skin with golden undertones, she looked just as pale; giving her an ethereal appearance.

He winced a little when her hands touched his chest through his shirt.

"Your hands are so cold." He said automatically without thinking.

He knew it was not a very nice thing to say but he could not take it back.

She looked a bit hurt.

"I am sorry." She said, bringing down her hands immediately.

"No, don't be." He said.

"I just wanted to feel the contours of your chest to see if you're okay." She said.

Normally, he would take this as total hogwash but then she was different from other women he knew. Could it be because English was not her first language?

He took her hands in his, felt the softness of her skin despite the iciness. She looked at him.

"My hands were always like this, ever since I was born." She said.

"I know." He said, but he could not have possibly known.

He placed her hands on his chest. His let her feel his beating heart. For a while, her hands rested there; her fingers trembling a little. She moved her hands around his torso; feeling - like she said, the "contours" of his chest.

"When I touch you, is it painful?" She asked.

She brought back her hands to her side.

He wanted to say that he was only pulling her leg, but now he had gone too far. She was taking him far too seriously. He felt a desire for her hands to go further into him. Not just grazing the shirt he had on. He wanted to feel more -- this desire was basal, he knew.

"I am sorry." She said.

She then wondered if she had inflicted serious bodily harm on him. She knew she had punched and kicked him, but he did seem alright when she left.

He had to pull himself away from this desire. He tried to laugh. He had to let her know it was an attempt at getting her to open up to him.

She wondered why he laughed and she thought deeper. Her hands were now on her forehead.

"Don't be sorry." He said.

He looked at her. He felt a subtle, indescribable emotion churn in him.

"Did I hurt you?" She asked, a little cautiously.

He shook his head.

"Just my big, fat ego." He said, now telling the truth.

She did not say anything, but took his hands in hers, and squeezed them tight. Their eyes met and they reached some kind of unspoken understanding.

"I understand." She said.

They walked further along the forest path in silence, side by side. Her hands were now in her pockets as she felt self-conscious of her cold hands.

He sought to lighten up the mood again.

"My prized possession is my chin. It's a magnet for feminine attraction. I do have a very prominent chin, do you not think so?" He asked.