Savour

• Cassandra Malouf, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2016

Sweat began to trickle down every undernourished crevice that defined his face. AJ became less conscious of the pattern which controlled his heavy breathing and started to run at a liberated pace. The beauty of his surroundings became clear; smiling, he felt the sun beam back at him through each clearing in the leaves of overhead trees.

??Every few meters he would break into quick sprints, loving each moment of versatility and playfulness as he flitted throughout a perpetual trail. Sodden fragments of the earth gathered eagerly underfoot; a vibrant greenery blending purposefully with the darkened soil. A single log sat itself just meters ahead of him, at first giving him the impulse to rest. Instead, he was soon feeling a pleasing strain of the muscles in each of his calves as he made his way over it. ?Narrowed pathways guided each step, inducing a sense of composure as he retraced a sensation long forgotten.

??A sharp gush of wind struck the side of his face; AJ jolted. He seemed to have passed the same lone log, knowing full well that he could not be running in a circle. Regardless, its reappearance did not faze him. He continued to run.?Drawing in a deep breath, he savoured the feeling of the clear, crisp air making its way throughout his weakening body, and prepared himself for where he now knew he was.

“Anderson! Anderson James! Treadmill No. 872! You need to keep your head down if you want to keep up!”
AJ did just so, attempting to regain the rigidness with which everyone else had unceasingly jogged. He felt the heavy force of a fan screaming down on his face and upper body – not a drop of sweat could remain there for more than a second. His feet were tightly bound by a pair of aged, gray running shoes that blistered and cramped them during all 6 daily jogs. AJ tried to determine where and why he had been imagining himself running over the past few weeks, although as often occurred, a weariness took hold of his body and he failed to maintain concentration. They had been told these feelings - feeling fatigued, famished - would just be what their bodies would go through to gain strength. They had to become accustomed to it in order to fight for their nation; for democracy. AJ wondered why after 12 years, they had still never been sent into combat.
“Meal 3, all recruits make your way to the Room of Sustenance.”
His thoughts were de-railed by the notion of food; this was his favourite meal, a 40g power bar and five 3g nutrient crackers. ??

Harsh sets of artificial light filled a narrow hallway. They pierced the vision of each recruit that filed through, reducing their minds to a dazed, unfocused state. AJ and the rest of the training facility shuffled emotionlessly towards their last source of nourishment for the day.