The Long Tale No. 28 - Footprints of Memories

The man ran. He didn't know from what or where to, only that he was running. Each step pounded a memory into the ground, each footprint a voice from the past. A fire; raging among the trees. A shadow; creeping along the ground with malicious intent. A young girl; whispering ghosts from her mind. An older boy; a king atop his riches. And, finally, the man, hiding among the shadows that the fire sought to destroy. Tap, tap, tap. His pace was a beat to demise. The eyes watched as he leaped over a crevice, flames raging through his mind.