The Runner

By Mike Melville-Reed

He vaulted over the barrier and never stopped.
Ran past the man beneath the clock
Who jangled keys absentmindedly,
He was caught by surprise
You could see it in his eyes, wide and terrified.
One desperate lunge, filled fingertips with shirt
he fell to the floor and spat dirt but remained unhurt.
The man ran past.
Through the double doors he charged
Hitting them hard, at last
burst into sunlight, Painfully bright.
Where he had been before had thick, frosted glass
Only the flickering of shadows from people walking past
Told him that there was life beyond that place.
Now he kept running, red faced
Keeping a healthy pace
Not sure of his route , not looking back for fear of pursuit.
He sent passers by flying ,brushed aside by him
no time to apologise or listen to their angry cries.
Patches of sweat appeared under his arms,
Then came the screams of alarms and sirens
Men with Black ties on
Sprinted behind in a staggered line.
Then close by, came the roar of the helicopter in the sky.
Then I looked from where the man emerged
Later I heard he was caught,
accused of assault, after being sought
Absconding from Brighton crown court