November 28, 2016 by Alfonso Acosta
82 – Morning run
“–Five thirty am.” The alarm gently nudges me. “–Time to get up. You won’t make it back in time for breakfast if you don’t leave the bed now.”
“–Hey!” Cries the bed, taking offense. “–He likes being cozy and warm. Why don’t you let him rest?”
I sneak out of the bedroom leaving them to their endless arguing, and head to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.
Adjusting my training armor, I try to plan my morning run to avoid some of the riskier corners of reality.
The gate grunts and mumbles something about it “being too bloody early…” but yields to the call of my ringing keys and lets me pass. I’m finally out and ready to rock.
The empty streets are still asleep as usual, gently snoring under the watchful eye of the lamp posts. Only the main avenues are already busy channeling the river of early commuters.
I utter the digital charm to summon the eye in the sky, and stretch a bit while waiting for his answer. It arrives in a business like manner, with a simple “–Go!”
Letting the wings on my ankles carry me forward, I follow the guidance of the little demon hanging from my arm. “–Zero point five miles.” It gently whispers in my ear, while keeping true to its nature by trying to tempt me off my safely prepared route.
I feel the world’s gears come to life, their deep vibrations reaching me long before their creaking sound. Slowly they begin to turn the starry dome above, bringing the first light of dawn.
The steel golems are waking up already. I pay closer attention as I reach every corner to avoid their lunging bulks as they whiz by on the pavement.
My chosen distance is nearly done. “–Six point seventy-five miles.” Says the gentle whisper in my ear. I’m nearly back to my own realm, but have to take an unforeseen detour, much to the delight of the tempter clinging tightly to my sleeve.
The fresh canyon has sprouted right in the middle of the shortest road back home. Huge white flowers tower from its center, elegant and courteous as they wave and wish me a good day. I smile and wave back but keep my distance, noticing the scattered bones and polished skulls laying by their roots which betray their true dietary habits.
I go around the faerie forest towards the wheat dragon’s castle. The smell of freshly baked bread coming from his oven waters my mouth, I’ll have to return a bit later for one or two of his magic loaves.
The fiery Fenix is already peeking from the land’s edge by the time I cross the grumpy gate again. I shed my dusty armor, and head into the waterfall to wash away the sweat.
I let the little demon rest, not before making sure he writes down today’s route on the leather-bound annals of my morning quests.
I sit down to before a well deserved breakfast, enjoying the smell of freshly brewed coffee that fills the cave. It’s going to be a good day.