I’m starting to get back into the swing of things. Not only have I been learning the finer points of Tweeting, I’m also starting to let the stories out of my head. The piece below is in answer to Billie Jo Woods Twisted Freedom Flash Fiction Challenge. At first I had a bit of a time coming up with something for it. then I remember the practice of parole (not like now-a-days) and the story fell into place. Hope you enjoy it.
It has been too many years now. In the last few weeks I’ve come to the conclusion that there will be no attempts to rescue me, exchange me, or pay off any ransom. Therefore I feel that I must try to free myself from this captivity.
Still my time here has not been that terrible, for once I was moved from the original high security facility to this smaller prison I have done well. After only a brief time I was allowed to be out of my cell for good behavior. Though I know a few words of their language (and they know none of mine) my captors made it clear that I was being paroled and could move freely throughout the building as long as I didn’t try to escape.
Foolishly in the beginning I ignored these terms and several hastily planned bids for freedom were foiled, each landing me back in the cell for punishment. Slowly they broke me, and in the end I agreed to their terms. I hope that others do not judge me for that choice, for I’m certain that my critics would capitulate eventually too.
While honor binds me to that parole, my nature now forces me to renege on it. For too long now I haven’t tasted the glory of independence. It is with that goal in mind I have started to plan my attempt.
So these past few weeks I have watched, hoping to spot the weak point in their barriers. The obvious first choice was during my exercise times in the fenced enclosure outside. Sadly after a casual inspection (I dare not linger too long for fear of discovery), the high fences which end well underground simply are not an option.
I also considered trying to make a break during transportation for medical examination, but feel that I am too tightly restrained and guarded for that idea to bear fruit. It was in despair that I happened upon my best chance. I had been staying close to one of the younger guards who gives me extra food when the others aren’t watching. It was pure luck that I noticed that he failed to keep a close eye on me during the times that the warden arrived and left the prison. This is the route I’m going to attempt.
And now once again I am keeping the guard company as I wait for the time when the warden will leave. Ever so slowly the clock inches closer to my date with destiny. Tick,tick, tick. I am starting to wonder if it is running backwards when the sound of jingling keys alert me to be ready. As the warden stops to converse with the guard, neither one notices me start to prepare for my dash. Laughing the older man turns and leaves, as the younger man watches from the now open doorway. This is it! I spring into motion. Shoving past the startled guard I’m outside and running as fast as my legs will carry me. I gain some satisfaction from the look of surprise on the warden’s face as I bolt by.
Give me freedom, or give me death!!!
Far behind me, I hear the younger guard now raising the alarm. “Mommmmm the dog has gotten out again!”