Monday, February 28, 2011

COLD SWEAT


The boy rolled over and tucked the blanket under his shoulder. Sweat stained his pillow and a chill that seemed to explode from inside his chest sent a lasting shiver through his body. He tried to call out for his father, but rolling over had taken so much energy. Only a pitiful moan left his mouth. The pain made him want to cry, but that would hurt too much.


It had only been a fever-induced nightmare, but it seemed so fresh as if it hung there suspended in the darkness. He could still smell the breath like death dripping with blood and saliva from a row of fangs the lion exposed when it snarled.

In the dream, the lion had been chasing the boy when a flash of his best friend, Adunya, morphed the scene into an image he could not push from his thoughts. The lion feeding.

The boy felt trapped under the giant cat’s claws—like daggers in his shoulder.


At the same time, he seemed separated from the carnage like a ghostly figure from another dimension, watching the lion feed on someone else.

The lion raised his gaze and stared into the boy’s soul, its round eyes thriving on the weakness it saw there. The body below the lion moved, a bloody arm reaching out.

The boy avoided the face. He feared what it might reveal. Then he looked. Adunya.

“Help,” the Ethiopian boy had whispered.


That was when the boy ran. That was when he awoke sweating and sobbing.


Maybe it was just a dream, but what if could happen? What if he never saw his best friend again? He closed his eyes and prayed for Adunya’s safety. He prayed for the pain to end. He fell asleep in mid-prayer.


Painting: Inside The Red Zone by John Banovich

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