La libération, c’est impossible

by Mama Knuf

There he is again.
Dressed in entirely in black, his thick dark hair slicked tightly back.
Doesn’t matter if I am at home, or at a party, or riding my bike, he’s always there.
At least he’s quiet.
His mouth is so straight and small. When it does opens, all I see is blackness –an abyss.
But even though he hardly makes a sound, I always know he’s right behind me.
His big eyes bear on me especially when the sun beats down.
Every move I make, his eyebrows wiggle across his forehead like caterpillars.
“Why are you following me?”

Today is something new.
He is wearing a drum around his neck. It hangs by a thin leather strap.
This morning, he started a beat as soft as the sound of water dripping. Plop…plop.
This afternoon, the beat became louder and faster. Pa pum Pa pum Pa pum.
And this evening, it was so loud that I could hardly hear my own thoughts. DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM!

AHHHHHHHHH!
My chest began to tighten. Breathing…became…difficult.
I stood gasping for air. My hands shook terribly.
I lost control.
And the beat was only getting louder.

AHHHHHHHH!
I ran out of the house and slammed the door behind me. Leave me alone!
But there he stood on the sidewalk.
Immediately, I ran.
I fucking ran like I never ran before.
The beat of my feet took on the beat of the drum.
With no energy left, I saw an alleyway and headed towards it.
As soon as I turned the corner, I braced myself against a wall and closed my eyes –

DUM DUM DUM DUM Pa pum Pa pum Pa pum…Plop…plop…plop…nothing.
The night had come.
The darkness had swallowed him.