The Great Escape

0
315

Her special ordered, limited stock edition, Honey the Bunny clock ticked soundly in the dead silence of the manor. Honey’s rotating whiskers let her know it was 10 pm sharp – bedtime for her. She stared lifelessly at the rabbit’s mechanical face, clad in her yellow pajamas and counted the seconds to which it took for a maid to barge into her room. She drummed her fingers to the beat of the ticking clock, mentally counting.

A feeble knock sounded and she smiled.

“Mistress,” a feeble voice called out to her from behind the doors. “I’m coming in!”

If it were any other time of the day, she – or even anyone – might have not have heard the voice that called out to her. It was so feeble, so soft and so nervous; it was barely above a whisper. Given the situation she was in, the girl behind her was probably shocked to the point of speechlessness; she might have already lost her voice. In the hour of midnight, everything was dead silent. She could even hear the rumbling chime of the grandfather clock two stories below her, the erratic breathing of the girl behind her and the muffled thump of what probably was the jug of water she had been holding, hitting the carpet floor, and probably spilling all of the water on it. In any other situation, she would have probably shaken her head and sighed with pity for girl who would soon face the silent wrath of her brother for ruining his hand-picked carpets.

“What… are you… doing…?”

Of course the condition still remains that if she wasn’t in her current situation, where she was crouching at her window, holding it’s both sides for support – should she fall three stories below her – and an oversized backpack on her back; if anyone read the picture she had painted correctly, it would look like she was ready to jump into the darkness of the night.

She, ever so carefully, turned her head and flashed the petite maid, what she expected to be a reassuring smile. “Catching the night breeze?” she ventured.

The maid in front of her was white as a ghost. Her arms were outstretched in front of her, undoubtedly unaware of the fact that she had dropped the jug; her mouth was gaping open like a fish, trying very hard to breathe.

“Night… breeze?” she wheezed out.

“Yeah. The breeze is so nice.” She played along, giggling tightly, not bothering to move from her current position.

The girl feebly nodded once. And then she crashed to the floor.

She stared in horror at the maid on the floor. She wondered – was it so shocking that she was running away?

……..

A warm breeze wafted by her as she pushed open the heavy glass doors to the pub – it smelled of something sweet, something intoxicating, something pungent, and she fell in love with it instantly. She breathed in heavily, savoring in the smell. That’s it. This is what freedom smells like. Her eyes eagerly scanned the spacious area, dimly lit and filled to the brim with chatty people. Clinking of glasses, chiming laughter of people and the chaos of their words set her into a relief – this is where she felt welcomed like never before.

She closed the door behind her and stood to her place – the room had no free seats, but she didn’t mind. I have the best view of everything! Her mind danced around the allure of stage set up at the very end of the space. It was the darkest place of the room and was void of anything, but the seats and their occupants were all faced towards there. There’s going to be a performance?! She squealed inwardly at the possibility of witnessing a live show, preferably something to do with music. The room went dark all of a sudden and her stomach dropped to the ground. Her back was beaded with sweat and has that ever happened before? She had always lived a sheltered life. She clasped her hands into a single fist over her slightly erratic heart. The rhythmic strums, the melody the two guitars created, the beats of the drums equaled to the beating of her heart, and oh the voice!

And the sirens. There were sirens.

She glanced down at the watch that was always strapped at her hand. Of course. Her brother wouldn’t let her go so easily. The sirens were close. So close. The pub filled with blue and red lights all of a sudden and the party goers looked in horror around. She sighed inwardly and readied herself. Shame. The strumming had stopped and the handsome singer look around at the panic stricken faces of his audience. She had to ruin it for everyone again.

The doors behind her burst open and she felt hands grab at her.

“Your brother has been worried.” Someone whispered hoarsely in her ear.

Oh she knows. He never lets her forget.

SHARE
Previous articleShutter Island
Next articleThe YouTube Baker
mm
Currently in undergraduate hell and loving it. I love numbers and I love words. Aside from wanting to be an accountant, I want to write. And that is what I constantly do.

LEAVE A REPLY