The Legend of the Ditch Runners

The Legend of the Ditch Runners

Dramatized for effect

It was a bright, and nonchalant day. A track meet racing forward in the finite time that was allocated for the succession of runner’s competence was under way. Two young men, made out of the material that only legends ever achieve, decided to see the world anew. Nearing the edge of the space that was allocated by the ditch gods for a track sat a dirt hill. This hill, easily traversable, and often traversed, lead to a road. A road sandwiched between the track, and a canal. There were two ideal bridges for crossing the canal, and a road identical to the first on the other side. The two legends ran along the ditch, crossed the first bridge and headed towards the second bridge. Little did they know that they were now the Legendary Ditch Runners. As time passed in accordance to the sun, some unnamed demon saw the Ditch Runners. The track meet paused, and the world collapsed onto the Legends. Everything was centered on them getting of the ditch. This of course, was not possible, because of a wide and deep and treacherous canal. The track officials yelled, the mechanics growled, the ex's dad screamed and the world was ending for the Ditch Runners. The Ditch Runners kept moving, avoiding the heavy curses of the patrons surrounding them. They jumped, leaped, and rolled to avoid the harsh punishment of the words like knives thrown from across the canal. The older of the Ditch Runners leapt over an excessively sharp word knife. "Get of the Ditch!" the Demons screamed. The knife buried into the younger Ditch Runner's ankle. Blood flowed from his open wound. The Older Ditch Runner acknowledged the wound, but didn't do anything. He knew he would only bury the words deeper.

The Younger Ditch Runner cursed his luck, only angering the Demons more. More knives, more curses, and yes, more anger. Out of nowhere a curse came from behind hitting the Older of the two in the back. He fell. But on the hill, where was there to fall but the canal? The boiling torrent of Castor Oil, someone had made into a canal. He slowly tumbled onto the brink of the Canal. The Older screamed his leg immersed in the boiling vengeance of the Canal. The younger, though broken at the heel, leapt forward to grab the Older Ditch Runners arm. His tears dropped onto the Younger Ditch Runners arm, and they struggled to the dry ground above the Ditch. The deep-fried heap of flesh and bone that was the Older Ditch Runners leg lay untouched. He thought that he would no longer have a leg. One of the more humane demons threw a harsh word of healing at the pair. Swiftly, the younger Ditch Runner leapt at the less sharp knife. Grabbing its handle, he rubbed it against his partner’s bloody leg. It was fixed instantly, but still hurt. They were lucky not to be hit by more words in this whole episode.

The Ditch Runners continued, at a slower pace, continually ducking under the mechanic blades that the Ditch Demons could throw. The Oldest was sweating profusely, in worry over his younger comrade. They continued, narrowly avoiding the last of the word knives.  Finally, they came to a bridge, and attempted crossing. The Canals water boiled menacingly under the two Legends feet. But the Ditch Runners ran anyways. They made it across the canal, and away from the Ditch.

The two legends proceeded back to the track, as they had wondered far in their effort of not being stung by the words of hate flung so suddenly from the Demons. Slow was their pace. Finally, after many minutes, the dynamic duo entered the track. No one cared; no one noticed the Younger Ditch Runner's bleeding ankle. Well, almost no one. Two especially angry Demons threw themselves in the wake of the Ditch Runners. They questioned their stupidity for entering the Ditch. But, the Older of the two legends knew how to destroy such Demons. He threw at them his own word knives. "2Legend4you!" his raspy voice angrily proclaimed in the stunned Demons faces.

On the day of the track meet, two legends were born. Unknowingly, fate had tricked the two men into becoming the fabled Ditch Runners. If fate had chosen any other two people to become the Legendary Ditch Runners, they might not have survived the slaughter of words. They might not have survived the sacred heights of the Ditch. No, we are lucky that fate chose the two legendary men to become the Fabled Ditch Runners.