The Race is not to the Swift

Behind me I hear the fateful footsteps, the heavy breathing, the sound of someone in strained labour, approaching like a doom, and I cannot escape the awful sound. A form manifests beside me. Momentarily, we hang side by side. The wraith beside me moves relentlessly ahead … and I am relegated to the lower station.
Then the beloved face, and her voice: ‘Second place in the race but first among the elect, for this race is not to the swift.’ To order a copy CLICK HERE