A Run in the Park

A RUN IN THE PARK. 

It was a lovely evening. A cloudless blue sky presided over the trees, dressed in their spring finery. Alison looked forward to the end of her working day, and her run in the park, especially in such perfect weather.

Her job as a journalist with the Daily Gazette was stressful, with deadline succeeding deadline, and a demanding editor. To keep her sanity, she needed to unwind, and jogging released the stresses built up during the busy day. 

Today, as she loped easily along the path between the trees, sunlight slanted brightly between the tree-trunks, casting a pattern of gold and grey stripes across the path ahead of her. The stroboscopic effect of the bright and dull stripes as she ran mesmerised her, calming her mind.

A friend had once asked her what she thought about while she ran.

After a moment’s thought, she had answered, “I don’t know. Nothing really. I just look around at the surroundings.” 

And today, her surroundings were beautiful and peaceful. There were few other runners out this evening. Her run took her past beds of roses, their early blooms scenting the air as she passed them. The trees were already decked in tender green leaves, and doves were courting, softly cooing to one another in the branches. She jogged past a stretch of lawn; a playground with swings and see-saws, but by this time the children had all gone home. 

As her route took her back between the trees, she noticed a change in the light. The sky had taken on the peachy-rose glow of sunset, and the stripes of light on the path were no longer gold, a pale pink-tinted shadow of what they had been. There was a slight chill in the air; it must be later than she thought. She turned back towards the park gate as the light gradually faded.

She was too far from the gate, which would be closing soon. Alison glanced at the heart monitor on her wrist. There was still enough fuel in her tank to allow her to increase her speed. As she raced towards the gate, it became dark. The moon was not yet up, and she ran by the faint light of the stars, and the distant glow of the street lights beyond the park.

A rustle in the bushes beside the path. She shivered.

“Don’t be silly,” she berated herself. “It’s probably a small animal. A rat or something.” She was forced to slow down: it was too dark to see far ahead.

A shadow slipped out of the bushes, and scuttled across the path in front of her. Her heart pounded. The park, so welcoming and lovely in the glow of sunlight, had become a dark place, menacing and fearful. She paused and breathed deeply.

“Nearly there,” she told herself. “Not far now.”

The mournful hoot of an owl mocked her.

She started running again.

It was further than she thought. Still no sign of the entrance.

The clangour of a bell disturbed the peaceful night. It signalled the closing of the gates.  

The sudden sound broke Alison’s concentration on the path ahead of her, only for a brief moment, but it was enough … enough to make her miss the branch lying in the path.

It caught her toe.

She stumbled … lost her balance … fell forward.

In slow motion, the ground seemed to rise up to meet her.

 She threw out her left arm to break her fall. Too late. The breath was knocked out of her as she hit the ground.

Air. She needed air. Panicking, chest heaving, she struggled to inhale. With a gasp, she managed to fill her lungs.

Then the pain started. Her knee. Her left knee. She must have fallen on it.

Alison rolled over, and tried to get up. The pain was agonising. Her left leg would not hold her. She shouted for help: a forlorn hope. She knew there was no-one else in the park. The gate was locked and the staff had left.

Where was her cell phone? Dear God! She had left it in her car. What a fool she was. She felt so safe in the park, she had fallen into the habit of leaving her phone locked in the cubby-hole. There were always people about: walkers, runners, mothers with their children, gardeners. She hadn’t seen the need for it. Again and again she shouted for help, but there was no-one to hear her.

Despairing, she lay back on the path, shivering, and moaning with pain. The warmth of the Spring day had been banished by a chill breeze. Her scanty running pants and t-shirt, damp with sweat, provided little warmth. She thought longingly of the warm hoodie stowed under the seat of her car.

The moon rose. Its pale ghostly light silvered the tops of the trees, but little of the light filtered down to where she lay. The dimly-seen trees and bushes changed shape in the gloom. They became monsters, and every movement of leaves in the breeze warned of some new threat. She screamed as an owl, in search of prey swooped low over her head.

Raising herself on her right arm, she tried to ease the discomfort of lying on the cold, hard path. Her left arm had born the brunt of her fall, and she noticed it was bleeding, but she could do nothing about it. She shouted for help again. What else could she do? The idea of trying to crawl to the gate came to her, but the acuteness of the pain in her knee told her that it was out of the question.

There was another rustle in the bushes behind her. This time it was no phantom. She turned her head to see a figure thrust its way out of the bushes, and turn towards her. 

It was a man. What was he doing, lurking among the trees after closing time? He must be meaning to rob her … or something worse. She screamed.

He slowed down as he came near.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to harm you.” His voice was soothing. “I heard you shouting. I came to help.”

He looked like a hobo; long, untidy hair; clothes and shoes that had seen better days.

She recoiled as he knelt on the path beside her.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Her voice wavered.

“Call me Joe. I’m a gentleman of the road. But don’t worry about me. Tell me what happened to you.”

She relaxed slightly. He spoke well, and he had kind eyes. In any case, she had no option but to trust him, so she told him how she had fallen.

“It’s all my own fault. I should have been out of the park before dark.”

“No use repining. Let me look at your knee.”

As he reached out to her, she drew away from him.

 “Relax. I know what I’m doing. I won’t hurt you.”

His hands were gentle, as he touched her.

“You can’t put any weight on this leg,” he pronounced, as he finished his inspection. “We have two options. Either I can try to support you to the gate, where there’s a security guard, or I can leave you and go and find help.”

“Oh, please don’t leave me alone. I couldn’t bear being alone. Is it far to the gate?”

“No. Only about a hundred metres. Just around the bend. Do you think you could manage it?”

She looked up at him. “Yes. I must.”

“Right. I’ll leave you close enough to the gate for you to call the guard. Just give me five minutes to make myself scarce before you call.”

“I didn’t think of that. You’d be in trouble for trespassing. Perhaps …”

“No,” he cut in. “You’re right. The Gate is the better option. Come, let’s get started. Now, whatever you do, don’t let that right foot touch the ground.”

He lifted her from the ground.

“Lean on me. Put your arm around me and hold on tightly.”  they progressed slowly towards the gate as he supported her. Through the haze of pain, it seemed to her to take forever, but at last they were within earshot of the gate.

Joe lowered her gently to sit on the ground. She whispered her thanks to him.

“You’re not a gentleman of the road, Joe. You’re but a true gentleman.”

He smiled, slipped away between the trees, and was gone before she could say any more.

1419 words

 Anne Greening ( writing as Andie Patrick)