Vendetta for the Soul

I sat there on that mountain, my feet bare on the solid earth. My pant legs were ripped at the knee, exposing tan, sinewy muscle that only hot sun and endless running can produce. The fresh pine scent of the high-altitude air calmed my nostrils, but it did nothing for my gut. What I mean to say is, there was a sharp nag in the pit of my gut that nothing could ever console. Something was wrong, and I had to get out of there.

But, as they say, actions speak louder than words, and right now the notion of "get out of there" was just words. The mountain brook that gurgled to my left and the dulcet harmonies of the birds that fluttered through the trees were comforting realities that I didn't ever want to leave. This was my home, much more of a home than any place I had ever been. The smoggy urban dockyards of my birthplace and the trapped perfume of my stepmother's cluttered home just did not compare. Like any beaming child caught in the thrill of home, I had never planned to leave. Even if barbaric Hun armies were to transcend millenia and shove up this mountain bent on my sole destruction, I would still be hard-pressed to leave.

But the churning in my stomach troubled me to the core, and natural instinct was practically begging me to flee. My forearms shook restlessly with goosebumps and every raised hair on my body told me that something deadly was coming.

Yet I knew. In that moment, I realized I wasn't going to leave. Whatever demon was coming to rip me apart, I wasn't going to run away from it. I would defend my home, and I would beat this enemy to a pulp.

Suddenly, my head snapped to the right and time slowed to a crawl.

Everything was moving in slow motion, just like every intense action-movie ever made. And a silver bullet was sliding through the air, aimed straight at my right ear. I could see the waves of air rippling around the blunt metal projectile as I leaped to the side. I rolled across the dirt, brought myself to my feet, and glared in the direction of the attacker. It was on.