Tea and Cakes

There are two types of running: Running to, and running from.

I was running from.

The weight of mediocrity was chasing me, and no matter how fast, or how far I ran I could feel its heavy breath on the wind behind me, feel the weight of its footsteps on the ground. Everywhere I turned, everywhere I ran it was there, just behind, ready to catch and consume me.

It was there when I flew through the cornfield, eyes wide in terror like so many before. Is there an original way to run through a field of corn? If you’re running to it’s leisurely, relaxed, gleeful, sensual. If you’re running from it’s dark and grey and cold and hurried.

Sometimes I caught a glimpse of the exceptional, and as I darted towards it I was running to, not from. Others darted too though, and the run turned into a stampede, with normality and convention right at the heart.

I kept running, through many fields: Golden fields of wheat and green meadows with sprinklings of spring flowers. I fled through cities: Bright, tall, glass cities, and old, worn, battered ones, bustling with people but empty of soul. In all I was indifferent, pedestrian, middling, undistinguished.

Everywhere I ran, and in everything I did, mediocrity was right there behind me.

Eventually I slowed - you can’t run forever - and mediocrity caught me, permeated my existence and turned me into yet another cookie cutter person in this cookie cutter world.

I’m biding my time though. Building up my resources. Preparing. Waiting. Until the time is right. And then I’ll run again.
~~

This short return to Flickr Fiction was inspired by This picture taken by tomdebiec from Flickr.

Written for Flickr Fiction Friday. Other Flickr Fictioneers who may have written about the same picture are: Donal,Elimare, Tadamack, Aquafortis, Chris, Valsha, Neil, and Mari.

Apologies to everyone for my absence from this for the last month or so.