The Chasing is a short story written by Roberto Antonio Aguilar Hernandez and shared with The Ugly Writers under the theme Contrition for the month of August
The Chasing
Nearing dusk in the field, a boy was hiding in a shed’s darkness. Awaiting his fate, he was to remain hidden until sunset. That was the condition to be considered victorious. Anxiety increased and his heartbeat grew stronger, so much so that fear seized his body at the thought that, just like a famous tale, his own heart could give him away. He decided to do something because he knew it was a matter of time before he would be found if he stayed in the same place. He looked carefully to the right and to the left and, making sure that no one was there, he hastened to flee. Although his steps were agile, his breathing was heavy and he felt that he was being watched, he knew in his heart: they had found him or perhaps it was paranoia. How to be sure?
He looked back at every opportunity, watching the shed further and further away. Perhaps out of repentance, perhaps he should not have left the security provided by said structure; even so, there was no turning back, he could only move forward and he had to do it very carefully because although the gentle trees helped him go unnoticed, the bushes announced his arrival without caring about his circumstances.
Suddenly it stopped. He had made a big mistake: he was not running away from his pursuer, but he was getting closer to him; in fact, it was facing him, looking in the opposite direction. He began to walk away slowly, but a dry leaf on the ground was not on his side, because, when he stepped on it, he did not mind accusing him from the four winds. That was how the boy’s escape began. Adrenaline flooded her body. It was not long before the darkness of the night was his ally. They were close on his heels, and no matter what turns or which path he took, the distance shortened rather than increased. In the distance he observed a familiar silhouette: it was his mother. If he managed to get to her, maybe everything would end in his favor.
There were still several meters to go and his rival was giving him no quarter, so with the rest of his energy he set out to catch up with her, but it was too late, a hand reached out and took him by the shoulder while a laugh of macabre satisfaction was heard in the background. He slowly turned his head to face his captor. He had a familiar face: his own brother who, with a mocking smile, would dedicate the following words to him:
“In tomorrow’s game, it will be your turn to chase.”
