Le Lion de Chanel

A lion always catches its prey

An imagined memory of summer and sun: we look at the unsuspicious power play
between two young men, grasping an early idea of what’s alpha and what isn’t.

I remember it being hot. Lukas turned to me and said: ‘I bet I can run faster than you’. He was older than me, almost fourteen. ‘I don’t wanna run’, I whimpered, while looking at him against a blazing sun. He smirked. ‘It’s because you don’t wanna loose’. Smacked was my little pride, I remember looking at him with particular disdain and saying: ‘That’s not true’.
‘You go first, I’ll count to five and then I’ll chase you. If I catch you before you get to the apple tree, you loose’. His plan didn’t even allow a winning chance for me.
So I ran, here and there. I ran towards the apple tree on the other side of the field. I widened my stride, cheating my legs into velocity. I ran breathlessly, with my eyes closed, as to imagine myself running faster. I ran through the tall, scorched dry grass, that grazed into my bare legs. Air, bursting through my lips rhythmically. I ran as fast as I could. Then, I heard Lukas’ ample breathing catching up on me. I shut my eyes tighter: in a second, I was caught. He jumped onto me as we fell.
We hit the ground and stayed there, my head was encased in the hot smell of his inner elbow. He already had hair on his arms, with tiny drops of sweat captured among them: I noticed how my breath would make them move with each puff. I could hear him laugh, as I pushed my forehead out of his grip, into the blonde grass. He laughed and so did I. ‘You’ve lost and I’ve won’. After we got up I looked at him in the eyes and ran again, knowing he would follow me and win again..