***One of the stories I wrote when I was a kid.***
“Come on!” Danny grunts, running as hard as possible on her high school’s track. Her leg muscles constrict more and more with every step she made. Her heart hammers against her chest, and the dry winter air chafes her throat. Sweat glues her windbreakers to her body, limiting her flexibility.
“Almost… there…” she pants through her dry mouth and speeds up for her final lap.
Danny grows tired at a rapid rate and needs a distraction until she reaches the end of her run. She clears her thoughts and focuses on the sound of her running shoes scratching against the rough surface of the track. There is a rhythm to her running: One, two. One, two. One, two.
Danny sees she is about fifty feet away from completing her lap and returns to counting her running rhythm. One, two. One, two….
Her ears catch the sound of another runner nearby. Odd… I have been alone all day. Doesn’t matter. I’m almost done!, she thinks determinedly, pushing with everything she got. The sound of the unknown runner’s steps also accelerates and she hears them coming closer to her.
Through the corner of her eye, she could almost see the person’s face. Danny slightly turns her head to get a better look but a forceful cold wind knocks her from behind. She trips over her feet and collapses, scrapping her chin and hands against the track.
Dazed and aching everywhere, Danny slowly rolls onto her back and touches her chin. “Ow…” She winces from the stinging scrap. Then she remembers that she wasn’t alone when she fell and sat up. She looks everywhere. There isn’t another person on the track. What the hell?, she thinks, scouring the area, I know I saw someone running with me…I think.
When Danny got home, the first thing she did was look over her injuries in her bedroom. Frowning in front of her full-length mirror, she sighs over the fine, red lines scratched into her chin. She wants to come up with a good excuse as to how she got the injury when she gets back to school. There was no way she was going to let anyone know that a wind knocked her over.
Grabbing a tube of Neosporin, she tends to her chin. Next to her mirror is a large, French-style window where, unbeknownst to her, a strong wind is tackling the oak tree in her backyard. The great tree sways dangerously from side to side from each blow as if it could be uprooted at any second. Suddenly, the wind changes course and charges at Danny’s bedroom window. BAM!
Danny jumps back screaming as the window’s doors slam open. The powerful wind floods inside her bedroom and shoves her unto her back. The rushing air stings her eyes and she cups her face for protection. The howling wind wreaks havoc, creating a semi-tornado with her in the center of it. Clothes, books, shoes, and other belongings get caught in its grip.
“What is going on?!” Danny screams through her hands, frighten over what is happening. Then her ears catch it. A giggle.
Carefully prying her eyes open against the harsh wind, she spots a silhouette of a person hovering outside of her window. She couldn’t keep her eyes open long without them stinging. “WHO ARE YOU!” She screams as loud as she can at the intruder.
Drastically the wind dies. Danny could hear her stuff crashing to the hardwood floor. She removes her hands from her face and looks up to see that the mysterious person disappeared. In utter shock, she presses a hand against her forehead to comprehend what just happened.
A piece of white paper gently falls in front of Danny. It read, “Tag. You are it.”