Run, Rabbit.

A sluggish breeze lingered in the air, dense and heavy with the scent of damp bark and soil, settling under my nose. I race alone and under blackened trees blanketed by night, chasing an inevitable dawn.

The woods, still soundlessly sleeping, are disturbed by my rhythmic footsteps and then the faint buzz of my phone. I ease into a steady pace, my lips press forming a thin line, and I collect my phone from my pocket. The screen lights up, its beam splitting through the darkness. My tired eyes discover a new notification and out-loud I mutter the message to myself; “Mira Harrow, I regret to inform you that I have to reschedule our session today. I hope your marathon training is going well, but remember to take a break and listen to your body. We’ll touch base soon. Dr. Simon Graves.” My face is briefly masked with disappointment, my brows furrowing in response. As if matching my emotion, the eerie breeze sighs through the twisted branches of the trees, reminding me of its unwavering presence. I push forward, dismissing the let-down for now.

My eardrums shiver under the hefty weight of my playlist’s volume, the familiar notes flooding my mind through the earbuds settled in my ears. Suddenly, like a pianist striking the wrong key of an untuned piano, a jutting noise interrupts the music.

I stop dead and turn my head. I pinch the wire sticking to my chest, lathered in cold sweat, pulling the earbuds free. My ears strain and try to capture a sound that explains the unnerving disruption. Did a branch snap? Or an animal scurry by? But, only my invisible companion is present, the breeze, now orchestrating a fervent rustle across my path. I feel my guts contort with anxiety, like a predatory snake. I did hear something—right?

I step forward, only to snap back swiftly. My focus falls on a shadowy, empty space. The breeze has lied to me before. It has played tricks, and chased me like a pet dog with its owner. A constant at my side. The breeze playfully pokes branches, forcing them to dance and steal my attention. I know it's a game and I’m aware that there's no one there. Yet, tonight the breeze behaves abnormally. It circles me, calling attention to the tree’s more urgently. Do I trust the joking jester?

“Hello–anyone there?” I whimper, my voice faltering. Goosebumps trace my skin as I stare blankly, my earbuds humming with music. The breeze sifts through my dark curls before it perches on my tense shoulders, as if waiting with me for a response. My breath hitches, and although there is no answer, I’m encouraged to run faster.

I slip my earbuds back into place and break into a sprint, chewing my lip and praying I can return to my normally comforting routine. But I’m denied respite. I feel it—someone, something. My heart throbs, feverish and frenzied, like a rabbit trapped in a snare. It’s after me!

Suddenly, my phone stutters and spasms, a static sound scratching at my ears. Before it replaces my original song, a sign of confirmation is uncovered—a distorted font reveals a new tune: Run Rabbit Run.

My eyes widen with a terror-filled intensity. I hurtle over nature’s obstacles. Quickly crossing rough terrain. The music escalates–loud, louder, and loudest. I conclude it’s not a warning but a tormenting anthem, threatening and stalking me like a mocking laugh. I fumble and thumb my phone’s screen. Sweat streaks its surface like a finger painting. Change this song. Change this scene.

I surrender to the music and let it play. All I need to do is get away. My attention flicks back and forth, frantic, like a dog’s tail wagging rapidly. Gravity finally seizes me, my ankle caught by a twisted root. But I do not falter. I must keep moving. My nails claw at the earth, digging deep into the soil as I pull myself up.

I feel heavy with the weight of fatigue, and I’m drunk on its straining symptoms. My chest tightens as if my flesh mimics a Victorian corset. The restriction choreographs a collection of wheezes and ragged gasps from my dry mouth. A burning cramp writhes in my limbs. I have travelled far but not far enough.

Tears spill over my pale cheeks mixing with sweat, as if my eyes were a dam cracking under pressure. “Please, leave me alone!” I cry, my voice coarse and burdened with emotion. “Please!” I howl.

My hair prickles. Run rabbit. The words strike the edges of my brain, relentlessly bouncing like an erratic bouncy ball. Run, run, run. I can’t see myself running much further. I can’t imagine I’ll escape this pursuit. Just let there be an end.

My mind is polluted by doubt, and I struggle to believe an escape is possible. However, in the far reaches of my vision, I discover the faint outline of a road. The sun, now slowly rising, drapes its light over the land stretching for me. I hurry towards the beguiling image of dawn. Reach the light. Reach the public's eye. Escape the grasp of night. I bite my lip; so close to the road. The music cuts out, and its threat fades. But in the end, it’s only a strained shriek that makes an escape.

After the peak of dawn, and amidst the freshly lit sky, a quiet breeze whistles through the woods followed by the vibrant, yellow shade of sunlight. As the sun’s breath drew on and unveiled the recent darkened sight, a shadow bends over a body purged in the night. And near the body, watching through a naive gaze, a charcoal-black rabbit waits. It’s moist nose twitching before a hushed sound softly tugs its dark-haired ears. In the reflection of the critter’s onyx eye dwells a depressing image—a wide-eyed woman, her body limp on its side. Her ebony hair, wild and ravaged, with strands stolen from her scalp scattered like fallen leaves. Her foot, twisted unnaturally, broken and bruised. Resting before her gaping mouth, an earbud—matching the stain across her forehead—plays music unending. A distant noise startles the rabbit as a breeze whips through the air, sending it fleeing, while the woman is left stranded, drowning in despair.