Doctor, Doctor

Heavy sounds hitting the pavement, immediately lifting off, repeatedly. Heavy breathing. The air smelled of pine, and pre-dew. It was four am, and he was running, a wolf alongside him. His wolf. She would run in bursts, run way ahead of him, plop down on the ground, and wait till he caught up. He kept up a steady pace. He wiped some sweat off his brow with the palm of his hand, and trotted onwards. One foot after the other. Mind buzzing with thoughts, and thoughts left behind him, they could not follow him as he ran. This was soothing, calming. The ground was rough. gravel-ly. 

His head was spinning, the flu was strong, his nose was wet.

She stayed behind for too long, he looked behind, and saw her sniffing for something. He turned back around, and kept on running.

The flu had started a few days ago, after he had gone to the doctor for his routine checkup. The nice kindly doctor had asked him if he had the flu yet, and he had said no, “Well, don't hesitate to call me if you do. It’s supposed to be bad this season.”

He had thought to wait a few days. But the headache had been getting worse, so he was going to call the doctor today. Probably just routine medicine.

She rushed past him, carrying a big branch in her mouth, tail wagging happily. 

He kept running, he reached the end of this round. Now he would go around the small muddy path that capped this trail, one that he added to make the rounds fewer in number, and the miles less boring. And there it was, the beep on his watch that told him his fourth mile was up.

The headache had faded, the running had gotten rid of it.

He bent down to take off his shoes, he was trying to start running barefoot. It’s amazing, he thought, how feet have so many proprioceptive nerves, yet people blind them. It would be equivalent to wearing cloth around your eyes, and being able to see only black and white shapes and shadows. He continued running, the dog smelled the shoes in his hand as she ran next to him.

His stomach was starting to hurt. Maybe he needed to go to the bathroom.

There was no one here today. That wasn’t odd. Four days out of seven, he didn’t see anyone. This was four am in the morning after all. Once a week, it was teenagers having stayed up all night, smoking up in the park. He wondered what they thought when they saw her, white fur, brown eyes, glinting as she raced through the park. As for the remaining two days, it was usually one of two old people, worn down, arms waving up and down as they jogged at a comfortable pace. That was impressive really. That anyone did that at all. But he did it, and he knew it wasnt that hard. It was just a mental barrier, that was all.

His stomach was really starting to hurt, okay, he’d just go back and use the bathroom, and then continue the run after. 

He kept running, the dog whimpered.

He burst from the inside out. Skin exploding into tiny shards of meat and flesh and bone.