​​Who Am I? By Stacy White 

The wind blows my brunette hair into my eyes as I run through the ally, and I am temporarily blinded by it, but, right before I hit a trash can, I drop the package that I’m carrying, brush the hair out of my eyes and swerve around the corner. My chest heaves as I attempt to catch my breath, and sweat pours down my face. I quickly glance over my shoulder, but there’s nothing there, I’m safe for now, at least until they catch my scent. My mind is a confusing blur of thoughts, none of which I can completely make out, just little pieces… burning heat… myself crying… a woman screaming… I hear barking in the distance, which means I have to run. I vault over the fence separating the ally from the forest, and run into the woods. I run to the nearest tree, and start climbing. I pull myself up on a branch, right before the four german shepherds reach the tree. Now that I feel a little more safe, I run through my thoughts, reminding myself who I am. My name is Aubry Whitman, I live in North Carolina. My father died when I was six years old, but I don’t remember how… I thoughtfully stroke the small scar on my right arm, that has been there for as long as I can remember. I sometimes do it when I’m thinking, because, somehow, I feel like it has a connection with my past, I just don’t know how. The sun is setting on the skyline of the city, and I watch it, thinking about how beautiful it is, and wondering what it would be like to be the sun, always shining, spreading light across the world leaving one place in a colorful burst of light, and then gone in an instant, to emerge in an equally beautiful way somewhere else… always moving, but never changing, I wonder what that would be like. A little while after the dogs leave, I climb out of the tree and run quietly over to the small shack that I have been living in for the past year. I built it with some wood and nails that were thrown out after the city built a bunch of new houses. I securely bar the door with a piece of wood, and flop down onto my small cot covered with a blanket. I lie awake thinking, searching for some other trace of who I am, searching for the missing part of myself that I lost so long ago…

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