Feet-Apart

A pair of feet disturbed the tranquil stream on the land as they moved. They carried a rhythm.

A man in pale harem pants, which were slightly grey and mostly white, walked less and grooved more with a steady pace on the path between the rice fields on either side.

Farmers were busy fetching and pouring water into the fields. The man swayed his shoulders side to side. A long bamboo stick rested on one of his shoulders as he held it from one end.

The water in the fields had risen to the required level. Out of nowhere, came a gust of wind which carried some petals. They gently kissed the man’s huge hat made of straws.

He raised his head. The sun shone upon them and they glowed. Magenta-coloured irises. One of the petals stuck on his nose, making him sneeze. The feet lost their rhythm, the bamboo stick slipped as he fell. There were children in the fields who laughed at him.

He heard them giggling. He stood up, shrugging his shoulders, picking his bamboo stick and quickly turned towards the kids. He was curious. As he turned, the farmers behind him could barely stop their laughter.

He turned towards them, and they acted to continue working, looking down at the field and trying their best to suppress their laughter slipping through their smiles. The kids burst into laughter looking at the pants painted with mud. He looked at them. This time even the farmers couldn't resist and laughed out loud. He figured his back was funny somehow.

He took a peek at his back, “Natural art!” he exclaimed.

The mud gave his pants a new shade, but on the wrong side. He closed his eyes and sighed. Suddenly opening them, he held onto the bamboo stick firmly with one hand and placed the other upon his hat as he ran towards the field with kids. He jumped into a puddle with clean water in the field. The kids were not spared; they barely could escape. He looked at them, very few farmers and the kids around him were wet by the splash of water.

A big portion of solid wet mud came off his pants. He looked away. There was a calming silence and then he was the one who had the loudest laugh. It was hilarious and the kids laughed along. He moved and his feet carried on, through the flooded fields, as he wandered forward.

Running, a pair of feet raced against each other. There was no rhythm, only haste. They stopped only when in the air, dodging the hurdles. Sometimes, it was some poor seller’s cart toppled in the path; other times, a stray cat; and most of the time there were men standing with katana blades. The person’s face was covered.

It was a marketplace. In the broad daylight, everyone not only witnessed but also participated in this wild goose chase. Any object that was light to grab and nearby was thrown at the fleeing individual, with the intent to stop them at any cost.

The eyes under the hood had a glare in them. They only gazed straight ahead, only to see an untied horse a bit far away. There were puddles in the way. They caught each one of them, and the feet either dodged them by jumping over or ran through them.

Men in demon faced masks chased the person on horses. The people listened to the announcement from those men. “Anyone who stops the runner will be rewarded handsomely.”

In a blink, the horsemen were much closer. A man drew his katana and accidentally threw it upon coming closer to the person. The person dodged, but the man’s head came off.

Another masked man charged his horse forward with his blood stained katana, overtaking the upright beheaded body on a horse. The horse jumped up and high over the crowd as the person rushed through the flooded marketplace. He was leading the chase.

The person was closer to the untied horse, and without wasting any time, they clung to it.

A baton was passed from the feet of the person to those of the horse. In no time, it was galloping as if its tail was on fire.

The person was clinging onto one of its sides. The hood came off, and the mask fell as the person adjusted to sit properly upon the horse.

Her desperate face was no longer a secret. The path was set ablaze, and a few people stood ready with ropes. However, upon recognizing who the person actually was, they hesitated to stop her. Instead, these individuals ended up assisting her in attempting to extinguish the fire. Yet, their efforts were in vain.

The horse was losing its breath. She whispered into its ears, "Do not stop... Please!"

It was her words that fuelled the horse's declining strength. She closed her eyes and gently held the horse with her arms across its neck as it raced against the wind and leaped over the fire.

They escaped.

Fortunately, the fire stopped the horsemen. Their horses were reluctant to jump over it. The leader removed the mask revealing his frowning face. He spat on the ground. His angst came out as he sighed, emitting a low-pitched growl. His eyes were coloured by his frustration.