Runaway

Prologue.

 

The night is eerie and silent at this time of night, yet only I remain completely and utterly awake. Maybe that's why I was quickly targeted. Maybe I was the first thing they saw. In my mind I tried to convince myself of this, but honestly I don't have enough proof. At least not enough to convince me. 

I sat up in bed. The drafty sheets fell off just as quickly for they were too small to cover with anyway. Heavy rain streamed down the windows. The sound was not at all soothing. I know some say the soft pitter patter of rain drops hitting the ground is a peaceful terrain but to me the sound more like tiny army boots marching around me, suffocating me, closing in on me. That is not serene at all. 

The floor creaked under my feet as I slowly stood up. Crossing towards the window, I peered out and spotted nothing but darkness. Nothing but light posts line up the streets. Everything else was barren. 

I try my best to ease across the floor without waking up a string load of other kids in the room with me. I share a room with eight younger kids, most with the age below five, so if any of them do awaken, it'll be one hell of a scream fest in here. That's the last thing I need bad to happen right now. 

Through the door, and into the hallway, I manage to avoid the squeaky floor panels from years of practice. This is because every night, since I've been brought to this orphanage, I've snuck out at two o'clock to see how far I can get away  from this place. Each night I get a little faster, a little farther. Now, at the age of eleven, I can make it up to 5 miles without stopping once. It took a while though seeming at first I couldn't out pass the yard much less a mile. It was when I was six when I started running and ever since it's been a lifelong routine.

Ms. Maria and Ms. Colt don't know of my little outings during the night because I always seem to make it back before 6 or the latest 7. No matter how far I go. I always make it back. One day though, I will run far enough that I won't be able to make it back on time. I might run to the next state if possible and finally be free. Maybe I'll go find my mom who left me in this horrid orphanage in the first place. Maybe she's ready for me now that I'm all grown up.

I let myself think about the possibility of this. The possibility of having my mother back again. The possibility of us.

Creeping down the stairs, one foot at a time, my eyes are drawn impulsively towards the front door. My freedom, just a little far ahead, is waiting for me, yet today for some reason, I'm hesitant. Automatically, I eye the kitchen drawer. It's the place where Ms. Maria places all the kids family information papers, including mine. It's usually locked throughout the day and night so the chances of me actually getting my hands on those papers are extremely slim. I've never really seen that drawer open except for the one time when Ms. Maria fell asleep on the kitchen counter, with the papers spread out around her. I think I was eight at the time, but I'll never forget the day I realized my mother had intended to get me back from this orphanage after all.

Fortunately it was my papers that she was looking at before Ms. Maria passed out. I got a peek of the letter my mother had sent me five years ago, now it has been seven years. The letter, in scratchy, slanted cursive read,

        Dear Kid,               

I'm sorry I gave you away without giving you a name yet. You were only one or two and at the time I've merely only called you 'kid'. Because that's what you are. My kid. Truth is I couldn't find the time to take care of you. That's why I sent you away. But one day, kid, I'll come back and I'll take you with me. In fact, lets make a date, a countdown if you will. I'll find you even if you get adopted, even if you're in trouble. I'll take you back. Wait for the day. I promise.

Love, Sherleen or for you, mom.

That's the only direct contact she has made with me since. I don't forget her words though. I truly do believe that she'll come for me. It's only a matter of time now and until then I'll have to keep warding off the couples of parents wanting to adopt me. If somehow that does happen, It'll ruin everything I've lived up for.

I walked into the kitchen, knowing that the letter from seven years ago is laying in that drawer still. I reach for the drawer handle, already knowing the outcome and pull. What I expected was an intact tug and for the drawer not to budge, but what I felt instead was the steady sliding of the drawer coming loose before me. Astonished I stood looking down at the open drawer. Inside were several folders each with the printed names of all the kids in this orphanage. Quickly, without wanting to waste any more time then given, I threaded through the files until I came upon my own at the bottom of the pile. I opened it, flipping through random papers all signed by the same name, Shereen, Sherleen, Sherleen, Sherleen. Every paper turned, I wanted to read, but I knew I couldn't. I didn't have time.

The letter was at the bottom of my files as if purposely hidden from immediate eyes. I grabbed the letter, barely glancing at the words "Dear Kid" , before closing the drawer and dashing for the front door. I won't jinx my luck with idling around for countless minutes. The last thing I can afford is getting caught.

Out into the warm rainy dew, barefooted, I ran out into the night with the letter in hand. Stashed about a mile out away from the orphanage is my escape equipment. This meaning, running shoes, fruit snacks, water, a jacket, and 200 dollars in cash from all the money I've saved up through out the years. These items were in a backpack that I hid along the bridge of an oak tree. From the years that had gone by since when I had first put that bag there, the tree slowly got harder and harder to climb. But since my legs have grown accustomed to climbing that tree after all these years, I barely even realize the struggle anymore.

After running the seemingly long distance, I stopped and gazed at my tree that glistened in front of the glowering moon. Somehow today, the moon seemed to beg that I run to no end. With the high I'm riding on, there's no way I wouldn't comply. 

Putting one foot on the base of the tree, I climbed up a little less efficiently as usual. Trying to prevent the letter from crumpling was hard to do while climbing.

At the top, my bag awaited me upon it's usual spot. I opened the bag, checking to see if everything was still inside. The bag seemed perfectly untouched except worn out from years of use. Eagerly, I gently slid the folded up letter in my bag and readjusted my footing. The wind blew suddenly, almost making me shift my feet and stumble. It's was a long way up so if I fall, it would be a long way down, not to mention hard. But the height isn't what bothered me. The eerie night that was once before filled with the sounds of nightlife, was unusually silent. The crickets stopped cricking, the rustling of leaves stopped, even the wind suddenly stopped altogether. I had an uneasy feeling as I slowly descended tree and as I glanced around I couldn't help but feel like someone was watching me from afar, waiting. I convinced myself that I was just being paranoid when the feeling passes but when my feet finally met the ground, that creepy feeling returned. 

I've been out in darker nights than this yet tonight in particular seemed more unnerving than the rest. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but that reasoning isn't really helping much this time around. 

Something rustled in the bushes to my left. I think back to every horror movie I've watched when stuff like this occurred. In the movies, it's always the stupid ones who actually go and investigate the danger. Some might even define them as brave but no, it's stupid. They all die anyway. I, unlike them, tend to be the smart one and run . It's not cowardice, it's not desperate, it's trying not to get myself killed.  

I turn and run the opposite direction, not hesitating for a second. Confirming my suspicion, an equal amount of footsteps echoed after me. I ran faster, matching my increasing heart beat. The footsteps behind me also quickened. I start to panic. 

Unconsciously, I found myself running the path of my usual jogging route. It seems as though my legs just brought me here on impulse instead of back towards the orphanage. Though usually a good thing, the people behind me seemed even more eager to catch me than ever. In response, I ran even faster, as fast as my short legs can take me. 

It wasn't soon before I realized that the footsteps behind me were getting fainter. That moment of realization was enough for me to inhale the escaped air back into my lungs. The anxiety was still there but the feeling was fading. I lost them. Whoever it was trying to chase me, I lost them. 

After passing a few more blocks, I slowed into a walk. I was exhausted and breathing heavily in my tired state. I sat on the curb thinking with everything that just happened, I had wasted half an hour being chased be what? Suddenly I felt silly. Why was so scared. It was probably one of the Radley kids who always try to ambush me every chance the get. I should have know. Only they would be the ones not asleep at this time of night and they seem to always know where to find me. I shook my head. "Those stupid boys just don't know when to quit. 

I walk the rest of the way, away from the orphanage with the last ounce of panic radiating out of me. The night was quiet again. The sounds of nightlife resumed. When I reached the end of my trail an hour later, my hand automatically found the letter that was now crumpled slightly from the contents in my bag. 

It was this moment, this very moment when I let my guard down, that forced my objective to change. In just a few seconds, pairs of invisible hands grabbed me from behind. My letter flew into the air along with my backpack that its contents littered the ground with. I tried to scream, bite, kick but their grasp were intimidatingly strong and a hand covered my chance of yelling for help. It wasn't long before I was off my feet and being carried away farther into the tree's. I tried to struggle, I did but my attempts were futile. They were too strong. These were not the Radley boys I concluded. They were not capable of this. What was happening was much more planned out, organized to be some round house trick. I was being kidnapped. 

The invisible hands  half dragged, half carried a frantic me. I was nearly hysteric when I saw I was being hauled into a truck hidden by the trees, away from searching eyes. I tried, I tried so hard, the hardest I've ever tried to get away but it was no use. The last thing I thought before I was enclosed in darkness was that I forgot. Those who run away from danger, are the last to get caught. 

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Jacob Clifford]

This is an interesting piece. Thanks for submitting it to the short story contest.

[Aarea]

This was very gripping and exciting. The ending was perfect and left me wanting more. Well done.