Hail, Aggressives! Sometimes after a race I have moments of creativity that quickly leave me... I wrote this a week after the Spartan Beast in September because at times I felt a little trapped while on the mountain. I wanted to finish this piece before posting but haven't made the attempt. Maybe putting it out there will encourage me to continue it. Anyway, a little different than what I usually do and I promise I will get back to my normally schedule programming of sarcasm, self-abasement, and self-gratification for your viewing pleasure.
Enjoy!
"Hills. That's all I remember... Are the hills," he said in hushed tones. "There were so many hills...," he whispered as he blankly stared at me, through me. I wasn't sure if he was making a declaration of certainty or trying to convince himself that, from whatever he just experienced or from where ever he just traveled, there were so many hills.
I offered him water and food. By his appearance alone he was famished, and he took to my offering with such haste that I would be surprised if he tasted any of it; but it seemed to have the affect I wanted. It gave him comfort, something I could only assume he hadn't had for some time, and put him at ease. Maybe now he could trust to tell me his story. I desperately needed to know.
Without looking up from where he sat huddled on the floor, he started again as he absently picked at his mud-caked feet. At first I had difficulty hearing him, he spoke so quietly, but as he continued his words began to grow in strength, like the telling of them alone bolstered the strength in the telling. He still refused to look directly at me and I didn't want to interrupt his courage, so I sat silently next to him and stared down at the floor, now littered with little clumps of grass and dirt.
"They grouped us together," he chuckled, "more like corralled us together, herded us... about 200 strong men and women, roped in, bound together by bonds of fear and anger and imprisonment. They spoke to us of honor and courage and commitment, all the while forcing us closer to the gates that lead out into the fog, out into the forest, into the wild and beyond. Out to where It lay waiting for us.
"They preached about how privileged we were to be among the chosen, how our lives would be forever changed for the better, how we would find freedom in our collective journey... freedom... they had been releasing group upon group before us and not a single one had returned victorious. None had been set free. It was laughable, they, those protected few beyond the barriers that held us in, speaking of freedom when we were consumed with escape. What did they know of the value of freedom when none had ever had it stripped from them without cause, without reason?
"I don't know what else they said because it was irrelevant. We turned to each other, held each other, spoke words of true encouragement, of true support and strength, to each other. We wished each other luck. What else did we have?
"Then the gates opened," he paused here to gather his thoughts or maybe to say a silent prayer for those he has not seen since the gates were spread wide. I'd never know. "And we ran," I could see his heart race, as blood flushed his face, as he remembered the beginning. "Ran into whatever lay in wait for us. Ran together... but we knew in our hearts that we ran alone. We knew that at any moment what lay beyond could separate us, pull us apart, and leave us to fend for ourselves.
"We ran, but not easily. Our wardens, our keepers, whatever they are, had laid trap after trap for us, impeding our way forward. Walls burst from the ground without warning. A few of the less fortunate came to a sudden halt, unsure of what to do; but me and several others clambered over, under, and through the barricades, determined to deny them their sadistic pleasure in seeing us fail. Maybe those who stopped were the lucky ones, because after those barricades were the hills. The God-damned hills...
"Looking back, I would gladly scale those walls over and over then climb those hills. They were breaking everyone, they almost broke me, but too much was at stake, too much was counting on me breaking free."
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Enjoy!
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"Hills. That's all I remember... Are the hills," he said in hushed tones. "There were so many hills...," he whispered as he blankly stared at me, through me. I wasn't sure if he was making a declaration of certainty or trying to convince himself that, from whatever he just experienced or from where ever he just traveled, there were so many hills.
He hugged his knees to his chest and sat in silence, gently rocking back and forth, as he worked up the courage to continue. Dried mud and blood flaked off him as he swayed in his spot, the only evidence of the ordeal he went through, leaving a layer of coagulated earthen detritus around him, letting pieces of his journey crumble away and fall to the floor.
I didn't want to push him, to rush him, to scare him into further silence, but I needed to know if the rumors were true. I had already spoken to others with tales of what was behind the fog but nothing they said ever rang true to me. The others fed us lies upon lies, hoping we would buy into their fantasies of glory, their tales of heroism, and for what? So we would sleep better at night filled with false hope and unrealistic expectations? It was empty words to hide their fear of what lay ahead, for what lay beyond what they could see; but not this one. His fear and resistance to speak openly was reason enough to believe him and I needed proof that it could be done. I needed to know for my own sake that there was a way out and if he found it, really found a way out, then there was hope for the rest of them still out there, for the rest of us who could go at any moment. I needed to know that, if I was captured, there was a chance to escape the Beast.
I offered him water and food. By his appearance alone he was famished, and he took to my offering with such haste that I would be surprised if he tasted any of it; but it seemed to have the affect I wanted. It gave him comfort, something I could only assume he hadn't had for some time, and put him at ease. Maybe now he could trust to tell me his story. I desperately needed to know.
Without looking up from where he sat huddled on the floor, he started again as he absently picked at his mud-caked feet. At first I had difficulty hearing him, he spoke so quietly, but as he continued his words began to grow in strength, like the telling of them alone bolstered the strength in the telling. He still refused to look directly at me and I didn't want to interrupt his courage, so I sat silently next to him and stared down at the floor, now littered with little clumps of grass and dirt.
"They grouped us together," he chuckled, "more like corralled us together, herded us... about 200 strong men and women, roped in, bound together by bonds of fear and anger and imprisonment. They spoke to us of honor and courage and commitment, all the while forcing us closer to the gates that lead out into the fog, out into the forest, into the wild and beyond. Out to where It lay waiting for us.
"They preached about how privileged we were to be among the chosen, how our lives would be forever changed for the better, how we would find freedom in our collective journey... freedom... they had been releasing group upon group before us and not a single one had returned victorious. None had been set free. It was laughable, they, those protected few beyond the barriers that held us in, speaking of freedom when we were consumed with escape. What did they know of the value of freedom when none had ever had it stripped from them without cause, without reason?
"I don't know what else they said because it was irrelevant. We turned to each other, held each other, spoke words of true encouragement, of true support and strength, to each other. We wished each other luck. What else did we have?
"Then the gates opened," he paused here to gather his thoughts or maybe to say a silent prayer for those he has not seen since the gates were spread wide. I'd never know. "And we ran," I could see his heart race, as blood flushed his face, as he remembered the beginning. "Ran into whatever lay in wait for us. Ran together... but we knew in our hearts that we ran alone. We knew that at any moment what lay beyond could separate us, pull us apart, and leave us to fend for ourselves.
"We ran, but not easily. Our wardens, our keepers, whatever they are, had laid trap after trap for us, impeding our way forward. Walls burst from the ground without warning. A few of the less fortunate came to a sudden halt, unsure of what to do; but me and several others clambered over, under, and through the barricades, determined to deny them their sadistic pleasure in seeing us fail. Maybe those who stopped were the lucky ones, because after those barricades were the hills. The God-damned hills...
"Looking back, I would gladly scale those walls over and over then climb those hills. They were breaking everyone, they almost broke me, but too much was at stake, too much was counting on me breaking free."
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That's it for now, Aggressives. Thanks for indulging me. You may return to your exciting, amazing lives!
- Illustrious
