The Lone Warrior

There I was, sitting in a corner of the cold dusty room

The dusk falling, the angry clouds gathering

Casting shadows across the sky;

Laying in wait to unleash their torment

As the sun goes down

And the moon rises to signify their awakening.

To be sure, I was afraid; though not becoming of me;

Being alone, in violent weather

And dangerously at the… mercy of my imagination,

Fighting the images arising out of nowhere,

Raising, as from death, with the first clap of thunder…

I tentatively edge towards the window, instinctively clutching at my stomach,

As a spasm of pain rips through, an anguished cry escapes my mouth.

I fall to the floor, suddenly overcome with agony;

Yet a buzzing noise in my mind insists that I must plough onward

Like the stubborn ox that I am.

I seem to have passed out for a time, as I awake suddenly

I see a flashing fork of white before my eyes, as I lay on the floor.

It sucks me into its abyss and I am falling once more

Then I land in confusion, shock and… horror.

Around me, there are bushes and burned grass.

A wild cat is climbing a tree, hunting an attractive, fat bird

That has known festive times and vanity…

I am that bird.

The cat is suddenly upon me, flashing it's sharp needle teeth

Pounce!

In the dark, dusty room I awake once more, to find myself kneeling on the window sill;

The need to escape still burning furiously within me.

I have scratch marks on my neck… a remnant of the biting pins…

Or was it I who did it?

Another clap of thunder and I am hurled into a fog of images:

All those other times, those other attacks, those other nightmares

Spark recognition within me.

Before the whooshing wind blows it away

I grab hold of it… Then

As the storm clears, for the first time

I begin to see through the mist.