By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
In response to Crimson’s Creative Challenge #190
He ran. He ran so hard and so long, he felt his heart pounding within his parched tongue. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Dark brows drew together in consternation.
The dogs were not far behind. A fence cross-crossed then blocked the way, but not for him. He figured he could fit through the slats easily, and did so.
He was so close to freedom, he could smell it in the air. He crawled through the fence, not noticing the no entry sign. He could not read, it was forbidden.
He dove into the drying cornstalks, tripping but not falling before he returned to his full out run. Minutes later, the posse led by the snarling dogs, stopped at the no entry sign.
Someone asked, “Do we go in boss?”
“Nah,” the heavy-set white man said through a half-smile, “he’ll wish he had let us catch him soon!”