If I Had Wings to Fly

Chapter 12: Chasing Mice

I don't waste a second to think. The word 'forward' propels me through the door. As I enter I'm Immediately blinded by darkness. My right foot connects with solid stone.

"Crap!" I shriek, tripping on stairs.

Just like before, time seems to slow down. My body moves through the air like it's trapped in drying cement.

"I can help." Says a voice I recognize- the same voice that's been following me.

I know no one is there. 

I'm still falling in slow motion when a tingling sensation blooms across my chest. It starts as a flutter then transforms into something bigger-mightier. The feeling takes up space in my mind and body. There are no words to describe the presence I feel, just that it's alive. It's not human, but a creature. Not physical, but a spirit. I feel all this and more in the span of a short few milliseconds.

Whatever it is I feel inside-my eyes become it's eyes. My vision adjusts and pinpoints exactly where I need to land, so I lock onto  that spot and let my legs move naturally. I leap off the ground with inhuman speed and soar through the air. My other foot lands three steps above where I would have fallen had I not jumped. 

I gasp as my feet touch the ground. The tingling stops immediately. Time proceeds it's normal pace as soon as I land. My legs are steady and firmly planted, which leave me dazed, almost dizzy.

 I glance behind me, stunned at the impossible jump I just made. 

I flex my fingers and toes, still reeling from the experience. My legs, so steady and graceful before, now feel shaky and weak. 

I'm in control. I'm in control. I'm in control.

Mere seconds have passed, yet I feel older, tired, and more confused.

At the sound of heavy footsteps approaching I shove all those feelings aside and push off into a sprint. 

"I'm not going to hurt you..." The man calls out from below. His footsteps are gradual like he's walking, not running.

I ignore his claim and focus on running. My long distance training sets in as jagged breaths are replaced with careful, intentional ones. I focus intensely on gaining a lead, while also chastising myself for stopping in the first place. 

The corridor is dim and narrow. Torches hang intermittently, winding along the curvature of the  stairwell. I skip steps and push off the walls while noticing every twelfth step hangs a torch.

A torch would have been nice at the entrance. I think annoyed. Then I wouldn't have tripped.

By the one-hundred and thirty-ninth step my lungs feel like death. I stop and drink in oxygen like it's a canteen of water in the desert. Between jagged breaths I listen for my pursuer and am surprised that it's quiet. I concentrate hard, listening for those heavy footsteps, but hear nothing.  

A tiny mouse scuttles around my feet, making me jump. The little thing races past me and up the steps. It's fast pace reminds me I'm in a hurry. I deny my aching legs the rest they deserve and launch into a steady jog once more.

Time passes and I grow more tired, but I don't stop. Periodically I need to use the walls for support and notice the space getting wider. The curve of the passageway becomes more gradual and open. Less torches line the walls, as the light is dim and natural. 

 A brightly lit archway leads to an open room. When I reach the top I want to collapse in exhaustion. I walk on shaky legs into a circular room and gaze at the high ceiling. The structure reminds me of a castle tower as the walls are made of a white-marble and reach one-hundred feet tall. Rounded windows sit at the top, lighting the immense room.