Gasping in the Wind

I paused in my breathless run, dropping my bag in the dirt and clutching my side. The pain was like tiny needles jabbing into me. A stitch in time just hurts, I thought. It was my own fault for daydreaming so long. I had set out just after breakfast to pick blackberries for my mother to make into jam. It was only when I'd caught faint sound of my mother's voice on the wind that made me realized how late it was.

Another call sounded, louder and more threatening. I looked out into the distance, trying to distract myself from my labored breathing and my aching side. Dark clouds were flooding the horizon, and the first hint of the storm kicked up dust from the path. I stood, hunched over, hands on my knees, listening to the twin howls of my mother and the wind.

I wished I had someplace else to run.

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