I ran, ran, and ran, even if I felt like vomiting my supper and the sweet dessert made from delicacy which I had eaten without any worry last evening. I kept remembering all the mornings of shivers, of sickness and of fear that regret would come back to haunt me. Eyes facing the road, wondering where the light from this tunnel would emerge, impatiently waiting. I could barely see where I was setting foot; all was cold, gloomy, uncomfortably wet, wet from the rain and wet from the sweat and tears. I kept remembering those words my father kept telling me: “Never look back, always run forward!”. Of course, I had grown tired of them, those same words he reminded me constantly each practice although right now I felt like they were becoming my savior. I wished I could have stopped to catch my breath and perhaps drink a few sips of water. My shirt and hair were dripping in cold sweat, but I ran. I had no advantage in this situation; I could simply run to the finish line. All would be done, accomplished, and over. Although I was getting caught up, I tried, in vain, to increase my speed, but then, my feet wouldn’t respond. I could simply rely on my mindset; it was the most crucial thing to remain intact while racing, another advice from my father. At last, the finish line was within reach. I could see it, already feeling the hope I had yearned for since the time I learned how to run. I remembered my father’s teachings, although now I must only rely on myself. Yet, all was getting along. I ran with all my might, like my life was on the line. Finally, I strongly took a hold of it and pulled myself up to cross the fence. The beast made a gash on my leg to prevent my escape, but the gigantic fearful grizzly bear could only remain on the other side of the high wall. I should have listened to my father’s advice. Next time, I won’t forget to bring my firearm; the one he left for me when he tried to save himself from a similar beast.
