Kept Running

Kept Running

By:  APHRODITE  Ongoing
Language: English
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He ran to into her at street theater. She was a force of nature, not a casual first time hire. She bought the house down with her performance, literally pulled the audience to their feet standing ovation. Her performance was too real, unnerving, deeply unsettling to him.

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4 Chapters
Prologue
22 September, 2050Harry would always remember that moment. It stood apart on all the horizons of his life like a distinct silver lining.He remembered every detail of her countenance as it looked then. It was as clear as the features of a full moon, resplendent on the rare, starry night when the sky was clear.It was a moment that changed everything. Nothing would ever be the same again.****He ran into her at his street theater. Her audition was so raw, so real, that the theater runner, Caleb, hired on the spot.Within minutes, the stage was set. The world felt on the verge of something new. Harry lifted his nose into the cool evening breeze.The gong sounded. The play began. In ten minutes, his head began to swim. He had thought she was a first time actor, a casual hire. But no!She was a strange experience.More and more he felt it difficult to keep track of the line between pretend and reality. A lot of what she was projecting, what she was saying, not saying, seemed to be coming
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Chapter 1
22 September, 2050 The train grumbled to a stop in the inky night. There was an eerie silence around Harry as he got off. The night seemed to be pregnant with sinister possibilities. Only a few passengers got out of the cars with him. A few more were waiting on the benches to catch the next leg of the route. Factory workers would have left in droves in the hours before. There was a feeling of unease, he just couldn't shake off. He had been unable to peel the image of the girl's face away from his eyes. The caramel skin, the wavy hair dancing about her temples, and those dark green eyes had been encroaching his thoughts again and again. But the strangeness of this hour as he stepped across the platform helped clear his mind. Something caught his attention as he moved past the waiting area. It was a vomit-colored jacket that jumped at him - he would recognize that jacket anywhere in the world. The wear
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Chapter 2
22-23 September, 2050 Sometimes she felt she had been running all her life. It hadn't always been like that, but the persistence of a refugee life felt never-ending sometimes. Today's run felt good, however. In her pocket, she held fifty dollars that she had promised Caleb she'd take back one day as they were hers. After a long run away from the theater, she had at last found a bus stop but decided on a little culinary detour. While that digression - a little Polish joint hidden among the shabby buildings in view of the inundated beach - was much needed, it had delayed her. She couldn't reach a stop in time for her bus and had to embark on a longer route with two bus changes and one lengthy stop at a recharging station for the vehicle's electric battery. Now, she would be arriving at Vera's house by midnight. She had to get off before the
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Chapter 3
22 September 2050 He never felt like Jorge H. Bernardo when he returned. He felt like Sinbad. Arrived back at last, at the end of his travels, returned before the King, trembling in wait as his fate hung in the balance, having journeyed, wandered, gone wayward, and gone lost far and wide before finding his place in the world again. His beloved corner of Sekovia Drive: a lone Red Maple painting a chill gray on the sunlit pavement that he could claim as his own. He would stoop, panting, one hand extended to reach the broken bricks of the curb before his knee gave away, and support himself as he sat down, home again. Throwing his pillowcase aside, sliding backwards until his back nearly touched the southern boundary wall of the Duvall Shelter for the Homeless, he paused to hurriedly take out his neatly folded throw from the case and push it with his shaky hand between his back and the wall. Or a large burn stamped on his back would be the next big thing. He was fifty-two. Kneeing
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