The road is long, and the sun is hot as I walk down toward the mirage of my future carrying the weight of my past. 

It doesn’t have to be dark or terrible to hurt or weigh on a person, but a little cut still burns. Everyone likes to compare bullet holes but never remembers their first wound small or big, it still hurt. No need to compare and contrast. Yet we do it, we stand side by side saying to each other “You think that was bad?! look at this!” The battle of the wounded I called it. Every stop I’d take to rest and every stranger I met had a story that had to be worse than the last. No one ever suffered more than them. And they had the wounds to prove it. What made someone’s pain less than another you wonder, but the feeling of hurt is the same. 

I used to always look at the rich kids in school, I’d get invited to their homes and see that their wounds weren’t the same as mine, but I saw how much they still hurt. I learned that maybe it’s not about comparing wounds but trying to prevent the pain or soften the inevitable blow. Life is going to hit all of us in the face, upper cut us right to the jaw, knocking our chin up to our nose into the back of our head. Believe it or not it kind of sucks for everyone a little or a lot, but having it suck just enough is enough. 

The day I decided to run away was actually the perfect day. Everything went right and everyone was happy. It felt a little like a movie where all the dots connected, and everything made sense. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I lived in a tiny box surrounded by my things covering each other. I couldn’t find space to be myself and I buried myself under the sheets waiting for the sun to dip and come back up so I could escape again from the hole that was my home. 

Everything was fine outside around my coworkers and friends. The people I’d stop to see on my breaks and the food always delicious wherever I went, if anything you’d think I was spoiled with the luxury I indulged in. But every time after each incredible day, came the looming cabin fever of a confined space. 

You never really know what the switch will be, the one that flips you right out of your situation. The one that catapults you towards your next near-death experience or sudden love. It always happens so fast and right before your eyes, always after a long lull of nothingness and emptiness. The rollercoaster ride is unbelievably unstoppable. 

Well, this day was just perfect. Until I got home. Surrounded by the walls too close to my bed and the window overlooking an empty grey stone wall. Living in the mountains with no view is like living in Hawaii underground. 

Seeing your blue sky’s turn to grey walls can turn your life into a prison. I’m usually pretty good at looking inward and escaping through my imagination, although today was different. The space I lived in felt as if it was shrinking. I tried laying down to prevent the anxiety from creeping into my veins but without warning my heart began to race and with every breath the walls came close and closer until I snapped. 

I jumped up as fast as I possibly could before the walls closed in on me grabbing my backpack, some cloths, and a water bottle. Shoving it all in the bag with some other items already in it, I ran right out. Looking back at the door that opened up to my apartment. I locked it with a key so whatever was inside couldn’t follow me out. 

I didn’t really have a plan for where I was going and I knew I had to work the next day, but the idea of going back there was petrifying so I decided I’d try to walk it off. Lucky for me it was cloudy, and the sun didn’t burn while I walked. It was nice to be outside and away from that small space. I knew that all this panic was inside my head, and I just needed to shake it off. I’d be fine by sunset and my room would hopefully stop shrinking in my mind by the time I’d have to go to bed. This was the scenario I played out in my mind to comfort the idea of going back there to sleep. 

I’d have to find things to fill up my time since the day wasn’t over yet. I decided to walk to the library where I’d find the book that pushed me out of town. It was called “Run” and it was written by an unknown author. 

The library was a cool temperature which was welcoming after the 45-minute walk from my apartment. I knew all I’d have to do was find a good book and stay there until it closed, after that, I’d probably spend some time at a bar or two until my eyes grew weary of the day and would succumb to sleep regardless of my restlessness and anxiety. That was the plan, and it had worked many times before. Almost fail proof. But today was different since the book I picked kind of called out to me. It was bright blue on the spine facing out with the words “RUN” in capital letters on the side. The blue had a sparkle which caught my eye as I passed it down the aisle. I pulled it out and the cover was black with the word “RUN” in the same blue as the trim. I turned to the first page, and it just said, “Author Unknown.” Of course, I had to keep reading because something with so little information is almost that much more captivating. 

How could this book have been published without an author? I was intrigued and curious, so I turned to the preface. I wanted to see what the author had to say about the story he or she wrote. The preface was just one page long. 

“If you’ve found this book, I’ve chosen you, not you me or this book. There is no reason to know who I am because one day I will be dead and who I ever was will never matter, if there is one thing to matter most than me it is how I can help you. Which is why I am instructing you to run, and I’d start as soon as possible if you’re reading this now. I hope this book inspires you to run as fast as possible and, in any direction, but definitely don’t stay where you are now. 

I dedicate this book to you. Because you’re the only one to matter right now since the instructions are clear and you shouldn’t question them one bit, I promise you’ll thank me later, even if we never meet, you’ll be happy I picked you. Good luck and I hope you make it out, enjoy the journey and follow the instructions based on the instincts that arise after every chapter.” 

Goosebumps formed at the base of my neck and the little hairs shivered up my arms. Did it just get really cold in here? I wasn’t sure but I freaked out a little after I read that. Well now I needed to read a few more paged to understand how much of a joke this was. A book picking me? That’s ridiculous and yet a little eerie that I felt it really was talking to me. Before I opened chapter one, I walked to the front desk to see if the librarian had a little more information about the origin of this book. That preface shook me up a little and there wasn’t anything about the author at all. 

“Hi, excuse me, Charlie?” 

I read off the name tag of the beautiful big glasses and pony tailed librarian with her nose in a book. She looked up gently and quietly as if she lived in silence and moved in silence saying nothing but acknowledging me with her eyes. 

“Hi, sorry for interrupting your story, I was hoping you would be able to tell me a little more about this book and its origin?” 

I handed over the book and waited for her to look it up in the system just to find her flip the book over from front to back. Her eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion as she opened the back of the book looking for a number or stamp. Finding nothing she handed the book back to me and shrugged. 

“Someone must have left it by mistake because it doesn’t have a library stamp. You can keep it if you want. Otherwise, I’ll just put it in with the books that still need to get approved.” 

“So, you can’t find anything about this book in your system?” 

“No, I’m sorry, you’re welcome to bring it back if you’d like to leave it with us after you read it.” 

My stomach growled at me. The library was so quiet that Charlie smiled as she sat back down and opened up her book again. I thanked her and decided to keep it. Still a little confused and not ready to dive back in, I threw it in my backpack and began to walk over into town more for a sandwich. I’d pick a good spot there and I’d dive into chapter one. 

Today just felt so strange and different. The people around me seemed artificial or just invented to be filler on my path, every person was unrecognizable in a town I’ve lived in forever. The sidewalk felt like it extended multiple miles more than usual from downtown and the library. I just kept replaying the preface of the book in my head. Just that first line. 

“If you’ve found this book, I’ve chosen you, not you me or this book.”

Who would write that? And how cryptic. Good way to catch someone’s attention, I guess. I wondered how many copies were made and how many people took those words literally. I definitely wasn’t taking it seriously, it just seemed like a creative way to start a story and I’m sure it must be pretty captivating if it starts like that. I was really hoping not to be disappointed as I still had a lot of daytime left to kill and a bunch of energy to burn. I figured I’d definitely bring the book back once I finished. 

The Pizzaria in town had some great meatball subs so I slipped in there and ordered myself a meal and a soda. I didn’t sit at the bar this time and went for a booth since it wasn’t too busy, and I knew it’d be good to sit alone and get some reading in. I’d have about 15 minutes before my food was brought to my table and considering the size of the book, I felt pretty confident I could fly through the first chapter before then. 

Chapter one -

“Surprise, surprise, surprise. You didn’t think you’d actually dive into this book, did you? But look at you, turning right into page one. Should we get to know each other a little before we get started on your escape? We already know I don’t matter so there isn’t much you need to know about me. How about you? Why don’t we just dive right into your subconscious, shall we?” 

I put down the book for a moment and looked around the restaurant. I felt like I was being watched by someone but hardly anyone was around. Was I spooking myself? This book caught my attention, and it only took just a few pages. I did wonder how a book could possibly get to know me. The author was a creative one for sure. Very abstract in their thinking and a little bit of nervous jitters hit me. Maybe I’d keep reading after I ate; it would be better to keep the book from getting food on it, so I slipped it back into my backpack while I sipped my soda and waited for my food.