Tag Archives: escape

Flash! Friday: The Ending

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1896 Olympic marathon. Public domain photo by Burton Holmes.

1896 Olympic marathon. Public domain photo by Burton Holmes.

Mama told me to come away, to come back inside, but I couldn’t.

The first ones ran.

I stared, from my perch on the broken fence, as they hurried past, their concentration on the dusty road and their footfalls, not on me, a grubby child by the wayside. They ran so fast even my blistered legs curved below my torn skirts failed to move them. I winced as I changed position.

There were more, still running, always running, kicking up dirt and ash in clouds behind them as they hastened on. Then they slowed and I stared. Sunken cheeks, dull eyes, scorched rags, and blistered skin…like mine.

He was one of the last, walking, dragging, mumbling and stinking of anguished sweat. I backed away as he reached my fence, and I stared with mistrust in my eyes and escape in my legs.

“War is over,” he slurred. “War is over, my child…”

Tears streamed as my eyes met his. “Papa?”

(160 Words)

0. Flash! FridayFlash! Friday…150 give or take 10 words on the prompt photo above including the word War…some of these are brilliant!

Five Sentence Fiction: Doors

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14. FSF Doors

An early morning escape © Lisa Shambrook

Dawn approached, sliding silently across the skies, trailing mackerel clouds and a pale pink sunrise.

Orphic rays and shimmering shafts danced softly on the lawn bathing the morning lark, but his song barely caught Kate’s attention as she buckled the suitcase on the kitchen table.

Organza fluttered at her neck as a cool breeze wandered curiously through the room, and she fingered the iridescent material, fighting the tears that dropped onto the hurriedly packed case now resting at her feet.

Restless fingers fumbled as she repositioned the scarf to cover the now fading circlet of purple and yellow, and she hurriedly grabbed her life with a quick look up at the ceiling.

Sunshine now flooded the small, tidy kitchen and Kate slipped noiselessly out of the back door, closing it gently behind her.

000. NewFSFBadge Bekahcat June 2012

Really enjoying a return to Lillie’s Five Sentence Fiction, the challenge where I cut my flash fiction teeth way back when…have a go yourself and take a look at the other entries.

Blues Buster: Into the West

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A haunting, lilting song accompanies this piece…‘I am Going to the West’ by Connie Drover for this week’s Blues Buster at The Tsuruoka Files.

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
Into the West
Cobwebs undulated in the chilled breeze in the dark corner of the kitchen. She hugged her knees to her chest and squinted at the luminescence from the fridge. The glow disappeared abruptly as he slammed the refrigerator door and opened a can with a malicious hiss. His boots clomped across the linoleum and he callously stepped over her feet. The lounge door clicked shut releasing only a thin strip of yellow light to invade her gloom.
The television blared, her heart pounded and thunder growled throughout her head. Her ears buzzed a high-pitched, tinny sound that threatened to drive her mad. Her body hurt, pain seared through every muscle, every sinew, and her fingers clasped tight around her knees, holding herself together.
She slowly unfurled her fingers, intensely aware of pain. She looked down and bent her index finger, crunching the bones as she righted its angle. Anguish and agony clutched, sinking its ready talons into her fading heart. She stared vacantly at the grease-spattered kitchen tiles, the overflowing crockery in the sink, the broken plate on the floor and her shattered dreams, crushed and ground into the bloody lino at her feet.
A sliver of white light glanced through the grimy window and she cast her gaze towards the beam. She rose, slowly, nervously, and stepped lightly towards the window, her bare feet treading numbly across the splintered china. At the window she pressed her cheek against the cool glass and stared up at the shimmering moon. 
Clouds drifted across the night sky and she stared into their depths, imagining mountains and valleys, and sparkling streams. Starlight sprinkled oceans that swam across the sky and she dived into the glittering deep. She swam, embraced in velvety water, warmth seeping into her cold bones, releasing seized muscles and soothing tension. The moon moved west, casting rays of hope across the navy night, and she burst out of the ocean, wandering on soft pillows of cotton-wool. She danced across waves of green, rolling between the clouds, burying her feet in meadows of everlasting flora and rivers of swaying grass.
She gazed across the firmament, dipping into her dreams, renewing hope. Her bower waited, a copse wreathed within mists and emerald green. She stepped lightly across the night, and settled, resting beneath heaven’s verdant canopy and wind’s gentle blanket, her mind at ease and pain long gone. 
Cobwebs undulated in the chilled breeze in the dark corner of the kitchen. A draught blew through the grimy window and ruffled the hair of her broken shadow that lay cold and still.  
(428 Words)

Flash in the Pen: Glimmer

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Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

Glimmer

Thinking was dangerous, and outlawed, and out of the question.
Thinking, beyond mundane, dull practicalities, meant losing your mind.
You thought about your task, your function, nothing else mattered. You certainly didn’t.

Anna had lived seventeen years without thinking…but today, she noticed something. It was just a sliver of light, shining in through the skylight, dust dancing in its ray.
No one heard the chip in her brain implode and the light behind her eyes faded to nothing, but those last moments, those thoughts had been a lifetime to Anna and she faded in serenity.

Anna dropped to the floor, her limbs lifeless, and landed in a crumpled heap. Not one eyelid flickered amongst her co-workers, not a beat missed in the production line, except Anna’s last bottle, and her loss was singularly evidenced by a lone, topless bottle disappearing into the distance.

Down on the floor, the dusty floor, something happened.
Neurons, excited neurons, did something unheard of and danced. They flashed and blinked, sparked and ignited, and waltzed through Anna’s brain. Nerve endings grew, pulses raced and synapses began to leap. Anna’s little finger twitched, her eyelid trembled and light exploded inside her head.
As she came round, pain seared through her body, and fingers unconsciously scrabbled on the dirty floor.
The high-pitched hum in Anna’s head kept her down, until enough nerves had connected to produce thought. The hum abated and Anna’s perception intensified until she could move her hand herself, and she was enveloped in a completely new wonder.
Thought, real cognitive reflection filled her brain and Anna consciously clenched her fist. Her left eye opened wide, dust motes swam, and the light from the roof rained down into her soul, every ray a miracle.
Myriad thoughts battled inside her head, and her reflexes blanked them out, slowly letting them in one at a time. She tried to move, to rise from the floor, but the right side of her body struggled and took huge effort to coordinate.
Autonomy flooded her mind, and thought reeled as she resisted her buried identity, but a violent surge of recollection broke through in an explosion of colour, and Anna was up on her feet.  She was unsteady; the neural chip implosion had resulted in brain damage, and she was blind in her right eye, her right shoulder hung loose and her right foot dragged as she limped across the factory floor.
Rays of golden sun flared across the grimy windows and Anna ran, racing towards the cracked pane of glass and the shaft streaming in from the skylight.

She was awake, alive and lucid.

She jerked as a strident siren rudely interrupted her lunge for escape, as her topless bottle was finally detected. The discordant noise blasted through the silence and she quickened her pace.
Anna aimed her right side at the fractured window which shattered as she plunged through.
Bathed in blood and glorious sunlight, Anna basked and new-found intuition sent her running for the gilded, sun-drenched hills.

(500 Words)

This was written for a new Flash Fiction challenge, Flash in the Pen thought up by Regina West…a monthly challenge a prompt and a 500 word (or as near as) piece. Go take a look at the others in her comments.
Mine was inspired by Regina’s prompt; MIND and also by a small 100 word flash piece that I wrote for last year’s Blogflash 2012: Thinking. 

Blues Buster: Paroxysm

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This week’s Blues Buster over at The Tsuruoka Files is red hot this week, and we’re not talking about the current heat-wave… The prompt track is Right Now by The Creatures.
Scan of hand by Bekah Shambrook manipulated by Lisa Shambrook
(Please do not use without permission)

Paroxysm

The din splintered Jericha’s head, every clang reverberated through the metal against her back and the heat seared her flesh.  “Charter!” she called again, trying to be heard above the screech of creasing and folding aluminium.  “CHARTER, Number One, where are you!” she screamed, squinting beneath the blinding strobes.
She ducked sideways to avoid a steel shard, crashing from the floor above, and slid back round the corner. Her heart pummelled her ribcage as she drew shallow breaths which stopped dead as she stared down the collapsing corridor.
A body lie, prostrate, beneath a sheared off door, and a crimson river ran down the listing deck. Jericha released a primal growl and lost her balance as the ship pitched. She fell into soft, but sturdy arms and the two bodies crashed down to the floor.
Jericha ignored the arms that held her and writhed free, racing off back down the corridor to the body beneath the door.  Within moments she was back in his arms, restrained, and this time she turned fury seizing her mouth.
His face quietened her.
“Damn you Charter!” she hissed driving her fists into his chest, “I thought you were following me, I thought that was you dead on the floor!”
Their eyes locked and the eerie echo of pulverising steel churned their stomachs. “Let’s go!” he cried grabbing her fist and taking off down the empty passage.
Their feet clanked down the metal floor, echoing their presence, but no one would pursue them now. When Jericha set the self-destruct, she knew there was no hope, she knew escape was impossible, but with Charter, maybe, just maybe she could make it to the escape pod on time.
Numbers flew through her head, a countdown ringing in her brain and suddenly she pulled up, yanking her hand out of his.
“What are you doing?” Charter’s eyes bored into her. “Why are you stopping?”
She stood, red-faced, grease bleeding into her wound and laughed. She shook her head, her dark curls sticking to her cheek. She placed her hands on her hips and stared candidly.  “We’re not going to make it…”
Charter shook his head, lurching forward to grab at her hand. “C’mon Captain, we’re not giving up!”
She stepped out of his reach. “It’s too far, any minute now the ship’s going to blow – even in the pod we’ll never be far enough away from the blast!” she yelled above the whine of her complaining vessel. “Let me just look at you, one last time – before it’s too late…”
Her eyes slaved across him, across his heaving chest, and she watched him run his fingers through his bloody hair, his outstretched forearm rippling with muscle and frustration.  She threw herself into his arms and pushed him up against the metal wall. Her sudden strength and ferocity caught him by surprise, as did her mouth against his. The aroma of oil and fear and sweat mingled with orange blossom felled him, and her tongue betrayed her need.
For a moment he fought her, fear conflicting with passion, but as detonations ripped through the ship’s inner sanctum, he gave way to base desire.
Jericha’s hands followed his hard contours, feeling rippling flesh beneath his torn shirt, and she rested her head against the hot wall as his mouth devoured her neck and their smouldering bodies cleaved together.
Screaming, shattering metal flew down the corridors and burning, acrid smoke engulfed them, but Jericha and Charter were past caring, and as the ship exploded they had already risen far beyond.

(591 Words)

Blues-Buster: Red Right Hand

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Another of Jeff’s Blues-Buster’s, and the prompt song is the brilliant Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – Red Right Hand. I was particularly caught by the lyrics: ‘…where the viaduct looms, like a bird of doom, as it shifts and cracks, where secrets lie in the border fires, in the humming wires, Hey man, you know, you’re never coming back…’
Scan by Bekah Shambrook manipulated by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
Red Right Hand

Jenson ran, his rasping breath burning his throat, but he ran without looking back. He’d learned long ago that looking back got you killed and that wasn’t part of his plan.
The streets were deserted, but he knew they were coming as sure as his blood raced through his burning veins.
The old town spread its fingers in narrow, contorted lanes and he knew most of them, his pursuers did not, they relied solely on the tracking device in Jenson’s stomach. He smirked wryly, barely thinking cognitively as pain seared his lungs, but aware of the irony of his enemies using the same tech he’d developed himself so long ago.
His fingers closed around a foil containing a bead of liquid purge, but he was unable to use it for fear of damaging the other prize churning within his stomach’s bile.

A helicraft whirred, not far out of range and he knew time was running out. He ducked into an alley and stared at the screen strapped to his wrist; old tech, twenty-first century tech, this time. He gazed at the flashing dots, until sure of their definite positions. Seconds later he was running again.

The arm that grabbed him came out of nowhere and he reeled, spinning, his hand ready to strike as he stumbled into a doorway.
“Shhhh!” she hissed, “it’s me!”  She twisted his wrist pulling him down into her lap.
“I thought they had you!” he whispered, his hand moving from strike to stroke as he touched her bloodied and scarred cheek.
“They did…” Her voice caressed his ear.
“How did you escape? That place is strapped down like a lunatic in a strait jacket!”
“I have my ways,” she purred and slid her hand across his inner thigh.
“No time for that!” he said regretfully, but unable to stop his lips from claiming hers.
She pulled away. “Transport, Jenson, transport!”
He chuckled. “Always a tease…we’ve got three and a half minutes…stop delaying!” He yanked her to her feet and the pair of them left the doorway, sprinting across the road towards the most abandoned part of town.
“How’re they extracting you?” she panted, “Helicraft…or something else?”
He pulled her across the road towards the old viaduct and the crumbling bridge.
The whir of the approaching helicraft erupted, destroying the silence, and Jenson pulled her across the kerb. Rotary blades thumped and the craft loomed up over the bridge like a merciless vulture eyeing its prey. Jenson’s hand wrapped around hers and they raced for sanctuary. Above them came the crackling sound of gunfire and collapsing masonry.
Beneath the arch of the bridge Jenson turned her hand palm up and placed his over hers. “What’re you doing?” She was out of breath.
“Checking!” Jenson grinned. A red glow emanated between their clasped hands. “I had to know, you could have been playing me, been one of theirs, one of his…but you’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m the only one who knows how to mess with the chip in your hand, yours is red…as it should be. Now are you ready for change?”
“Change?” She stared at him. “I’m ready for anything, I’m a wanted woman!”
“That you are!” He whirled her round against the wall and pulled her body close, kissing her hard. “I’m leaving with everything he owns,” He patted his stomach, “and you, if you’re coming with me?”
“Like hell I am!”
“A new century… this time I’m going back to the twenty-first!” Jenson slammed his hand to the wall above her head, directly onto an ancient, peeling, red graffiti hand print. Dust choked the air, bricks distorted beneath his palm and he grinned at his companion’s shocked cry as they plunged backwards. “Geronimo!”

(622 Words)

Flash! Friday: Casting Pearls

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Eloise disliked the constraints of the time she found herself in, almost as much as the heavy, corseted skirts and laced-up boots she’d been bound into, and when the opportunity had arisen to rid herself of these constrictions she took it. She slipped out of her skirt with the same ease she slipped the knife into his chest.
The look of incredulity upon his cruel, angular features had been worth every last minute that she remained staring into his dying face.  
She wiped the blade’s crimson stain on her discarded skirt and slipped the knife into her belt, before fingering the sumptuous strings of black pearls at her neck, the only possession that truly belonged to her.
She was out on the pier in a matter of moments. The moon’s rays danced like teardrops on the black ocean as she jumped. A siren rang out up at the house, its warning piercing the silent night air, and she knew his guards had rallied. Her underskirt clung to her legs as she sank into the murky depths. Behind her bubbles effervesced through the gloom, but even his aquatic guards held no fear, not this time.
She flung her head back, brought her hand to the heavy necklace and tore it away from her neck. She threaded pearls through her fingers until she found the right one, and then she squeezed.
One flash and the ocean glittered, and she swam like an eel through the portal, hoping to emerge in a slightly more equitable time…

(253 Words)

Written for Flash! Friday #13. 
Write a 200-300 word story based on the prompt picture.

Blues-Buster: For Freedom

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This is written for the Mid-Week Blues-Buster Flash Fiction Challenge week 01 over at The Tsuruoka Files. The prompt is a song ‘Freedom’ by Elayna Boynton and Anthony Hamilton which you can find here. The target is 500 words, but anything between 300 and 700 is okay. I really enjoyed the challenge of a longer piece.
The line from the song: ‘Looking for freedom, and to find it, cost me everything I have.’ inspired this tale of courage and freedom…

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
For Freedom
Rosa started down the cliff path to the bay, giving no heed to the wind whipping through her voluminous skirts. She moved swiftly, her heart full of resolve and determination. She pushed damp hair away from her face and gazed down at the beach. Smoke seeped out of the caves below and Rosa cast a hurried look over her shoulder. 
Mournful cries carried across the bay on a gust and she swallowed hard, her fingers moving unconsciously to her pocket and stroking metal. A few more steps and she jumped down onto the dark, wet sand. She glanced up the path once again then headed for the smoking caves. 
Another lonely lament echoed, booming through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the hills and it was matched by a sounding horn up on the cliff.
It wasn’t her they were missing, surely not, a common kitchen maid would not be noticed, there or not, but she hurried on. 
The horn called again and soldiers reached the cliff edge, weapons glinting in the sun. 
Rosa headed into the gloomy cave and ducked behind a rock, as the smoke cleared she slowly raised her head and as her eyes adjusted to the shade her jaw dropped. 
Restrained in chains was a creature more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen.  
She gasped and the fledgling dragon turned, its scales dancing in streams of sunlight from gaps in the roof.  She stood, transfixed by the opalescent greens and pinks playing across the dragon, who reared up on its hind legs and spread its wings. 
Rosa’s breath caught in a lump that threatened to tear her heart out. The young dragon’s wings were laced with wounds and rents, and for a moment she thought all was lost. 
She gripped the key in her pocket and she mustered her courage. 
Soldiers, cascading down the cliff, echoed and she stepped away from the rock and stood before the dragon.  She waited, with breath locked deep inside her chest as the creature stared back at her, its eyes black and wild. 
Purple flames licked its maw and small wisps of smoke escaped its nostrils. Rosa refused to breathe as she stepped closer. The dragon tensed and coiled, its tail swinging slowly back and forth. 
Woe grumbled through the cave from outside and the dragon’s attention flickered. Rosa followed the heavy chain from a thick metal post at the rear of the cave, across the sand, to the dragon. 
The tight manacle gripped the dragon’s leg, and Rosa winced at the crusted blood and broken scales beneath the cruel metal. 
She drew the key out of her pocket, resolutely flung a few words to the Gods and strode forward. The dragon reversed, dragging the awful chain, and threw a violet blaze at her. Undeterred she advanced, backing it into a dark corner. The dragon flapped and tried to lift off the sand, but the chain hung heavy and tugged at the bloody mess. Rosa threw herself at the dragon’s feet and grappled with the iron cuff. The creature flapped and screeched and flames flashed through the dark. Rosa unlocked and released the shackle then rose, before the creature, and waved her arms and shouted. Confusion filled the cave as the dragon’s panic, fire and smoke burst forth and her cries could barely be heard above the commotion. 
Outside armour chinked and the whip of arrows filled the air and the dragon was suddenly up and free. Chaos reigned and soldiers fled as the creature tore out of the cave breathing fire and roaring in reply to the dragon call that now echoed across the bay. 
Rosa stumbled out onto the beach, heedless to the burns blistering across her arms and her scorched hair. 
She watched as the young dragon soared, despite damaged wings and escaped into the ocean sky. She wandered forward, in oblivious relief, and blissfully unaware of the singing arrow that lodged between her shoulders. She’d done what she came to do…the caged dragon was free, as now so was she… 
(675 Words inc title)

Monday Mixer: Escape

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This is for The Latinum Vault’s Monday Mixer. Write a piece in exactly 150 words using at least three of the prompt words: a place, a thing and an adjective. 
www.flickr.com/photos/thelastkrystallos
Bitter winds tore at Harlan’s ragged, leather-clad legs as he trudged through the snow. His toes froze within battered boots, but he was too spent to notice.
“Move it, worm!” screamed Kane shoving his knife against Harlan’s cheek. “Got to make it before sundown, or we both freeze!” Neither the knife nor Kane’s derisive contempt made any difference to his prisoner’s footfalls.
Then the ice shifted and gave way. Pain seared through Harlan’s shoulder as his arm was yanked out of its socket. Kane’s shriek pierced the silence as he disappeared into the widening crevasse. Adrenalin surged and Harlan’s manaclebit into his wrist as Kane tried to claw back up the ice wall.
Harlan twisted and grabbed Kane’s dropped knife and wildly began sawing at his warden’s wrist while Kane withed in agony.
Harlan stood, silent and miniscule, drenched in sweat and blood, but at last he was free.
(150 Words)
Find Monday Mixer here and peruse the other entries…