Run for the Hills

by Kevin Wilson

It began to dawn on Mad that perhaps Tom was the kind of child that exhausted responsible adults, that having a pixie living in your house with unlimited access to Pop-Tarts and forever working on a low-budget independent film was perhaps not as magical as it might seem.

He didn’t think of things as a beginning, a middle, and an ending. In his life, he mostly didn’t know if things were ending or starting. He was a kid, for crying out loud. Everything felt like a beginning and an ending at the exact same time. There was no middle. It was all beginnings and endings, over and over, until you got old and had enough footage to determine what the story was about.