He vaulted onto the back of the motorbike quickly kicking it into gear and tearing off. Behind him echoed the angry shouts of the security guard and he watched his quarry escape. Suddenly he swerved only just avoiding the police car that had pulled out in front of him. His grin of triumph faded and he focused on the road ahead turning down an alley to emerge onto another road.
When you’re screaming and no one can hear you. When you’re hurt and no one can help you. What can you do but go on living alone? You do everything you can to hold on to who you, to what you are but even as you do so you feel that little bit of humanity begin to slip away.
There are days when I feel the weight of my destiny crushing me; when I feel as if I’m going to collapse underneath it. Yet somehow I find the strength to keep going to struggle back to my feet and stand again against the changing flow. I’m always here, I’ve always been here and I’ll always be here. I am what you would call a fact and yet I don’t fit your definition.
As dusk settled over the port the cohort’s commander peered down the cliff towards the river. He froze at the sight before him, in terror. There on the opposite bank, was the enemy contingent they’d been tracking but it seemed they’d merged with the main army. Before him was a sprawled mass that would be the work of legions to destroy, not a single cohort. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the camp for any sign of the prisoners they were so determined to rescue they had tracked the enemy this far. With one last scan of the sight before him, he turned and scrambled back down to his men.
Inspired by the first line of ‘Centurion’ by Simon Scarrow.
Written for today’s daily prompt: Call Me Ishmael this is my first post of the new year.