Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.

YES
I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
NO
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.


deepundergroundpoetry.com

Image for the poem Lonely Man and the Runner

Lonely Man and the Runner

A lonely man stood staring with hollowed eyes only feet from where he’d slept the night before. His desires were heightened by too much beer and too many nights spent with emptiness. For him, human touch always proved too intoxicating, and his groping soon turned to violence in holding what wasn’t his to possess.
 
The approaching runner made the mistake of jogging on the boardwalk before dawn, enjoying what was scheduled to be her last morning in the city. Her body was built for distance running, lean and petite. Her hair was cut short and she had the face of a woman that should have been younger than 34. She was a wife and mother whose husband and two children still slept in their hotel room less than a mile away.  
 
The metallic thumping of truck tires crossing the bridge above her masked the presence of the man with hollowed eyes. As she jogged her mind buzzed with thoughts of her family and their plans for the day. Her life had been blessed and understood that she’d lived a fairytale existence.  
 
The man who’d slept underneath the noisy bridge had no history that he would share. His life had been shaped by three years in a war without purpose followed by repeated rejection. Still, he knew beauty when he saw it and he’d not descended to the point that he no longer desired it.  
 
He struck quickly and she fell beneath him. The relentless roar of trucks on the bridge above them muted her screams. When her clear eyes met his, she knew his intentions and struggled against his wiry grip. His hands had found her neck and his knees pressed her legs apart against the boardwalk. She felt his hardness pressing against her and cried, “Please no!”  
 
The man’s expression changed suddenly. He softened and said, “I’m sorry.” She had no breath for words but mouthed, “Please stop. I’m a mother, please!”
 
But he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The metallic thumping rang in his ears as cars and trucks raced over the bridge above them. Men and women raced to work or laughed as they enjoyed a few last minutes before school. Truckers rushed to get products to market. Not one soul crossing the bridge that early morning in April realized the struggle playing out below.  
 
Two humans flailed in high grass next to the boardwalk. She was in a struggle for her life. He continued dry humping against her frame and squeezing her neck. As consciousness faded, she felt his hand pressing through her running shorts against her pubic mound, a place only touched by her husband since they began dating when she was 26. She twisted against him weakly as if it were an involuntarily reflex.  She was falling away now.  
 
He looked at her eyes. Their expression softened and blurred. She stared at the bridge above them where the wheels of 18-wheelers still drummed with repeated booms that echoed the pressing of his body against hers.  
 
Within a few minutes, their naked bodies were joined, but only he felt any physical sensation, pressing into a limp human form that had been animated with life when he first saw her. The lonely man thought he was satisfying his lusts but he had no concept of the love this woman was capable of sharing.  
 
As he felt the familiar jolts of his coming inside of her fading warmth, he cried out with despair deeper than he’d felt before. In that moment of elation, he had a clear vision of what he’d stolen that morning.  
...................
Back at the hotel, a man walked down to the lobby for coffee expecting to see his wife already enjoying a well-earned breakfast. He wasn’t startled by her absence since she sometimes ran longer on cool mornings like this one. By the time he got back to the room, two girls were laughing and bouncing on the bed. They were 5 and 7. As he watched them, he thought of a recent night with his wife and how they hoped to have a third child before they got much older.  
Written by LostViking (Lost Viking)
Published | Edited 7th Jun 2022
Author's Note
I took a short news story and embellished it to make this short piece of dark fiction.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 0
comments 3 reads 204
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:20pm by Mstrmnd1923
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:45pm by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:39pm by nightbirdblue
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:05pm by Grace