Tag Archives: escape

Fiction: Runaway (123 words)

I never felt comfortable with all the training thy put us through. Not really.  Of course—it’s not like I could complain. Their training was all I had ever know—all Timothy had ever known. Where else were we supposed to go?

But there was something about the way they explained my mother’s death—and something about the look on my grandmother’s face whenever they repeated the story.  Someone was lying to me—but I couldn’t figure out who, or more importantly, why.

So yes, it was easy for me to jump at the chance to leave it all behind.  I wanted to go someplace where I wasn’t going to be constantly and consistently lied to.  Can you really blame me for that?

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Posted by on February 4, 2016 in Lydia's Stories, Stories


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Fiction: Legal Theft Project-Running (224 words)

As far as lunatic schemes went, this was the best he had ever conjured, and they both knew it. They laughed as they ran down the hallway, grabbing for each other as they went, searching for the reassurance that the other was still there, hadn’t fallen behind or made a wrong turn somewhere.   In their attempt to run, and their attempt keep together, they spent a lot of their time tripping over each other and slowing each other down.

They finally rounded a corner, and seemed to be both decide they were far enough away.   He fell against the wall and slid down to sit at the baseboard.  She bent in half, resting her hands on her knees, trying to get her breath back in spite of the fact that she was still laughing.

“That was a great idea.”  She grinned.

“Yeah,” he made a gesture in her direction, “Not the best escape plan though. Could have thought that one through a little more.”

“Where’s the fun in planning?” She straighten back up, stretching out her back and shoulders.  As if to reinforce her point, they heard the sirens getting closer again.  “Come on, off we go.”

She extended her hand and he let her pull him back to his feet. He didn’t drop her hand as they started off down the alley again.

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Posted by on November 20, 2015 in Legal Theft Project


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Fiction: Definition of Fine (565 words)

I tried not to think about the fact that I could now recognize them by their hands.  In the darkness, I felt a hand curl over my shoulder, a thumb pressed softly to the base of my neck, and I knew it was Thomas.  It was good to know he was there, but when I didn’t feel a second-hand, I began to panic.  Where was Brian?

Thomas must have felt me tense—or perhaps he was just getting to know me better than anticipated.  His hand slid down my arm, his chin rested slightly on my shoulder, and in a whisper so quiet to almost be non-existent he said “Fine. Not here.”  I waited until his thumb was back against my neck before I nodded to show I understood.  Thomas gave me a soft squeeze, but then we stood still.  Whatever was happening, we would have to wait it out.

We stood in the darkness for hours.  I felt my knees start to buckle, and swayed on the spot.  I was so tired.  I’d spent so much time here, so much time afraid of what was going on–I couldn’t remember the last time I slept.  Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I actually sat down.   I tried to stay still, but I swayed again.  I felt Thomas squeeze my shoulder, then he pulled me back against his chest.   He stayed perfectly still even as he settled my weight against him.  “Rest.” He whispered, “I got some sleep–so rest.”

Normally, I would have refused.  But I was so exhausted–so tired.  I settled my weight back against his chest, and he put an arm around my stomach.  I was asleep in seconds.

I woke up a couple of hours later on a cot. I panicked for a moment, laying perfectly still trying to figure out what was going on.

“It’s okay, you’re with friendlies.” It was Brian’s voice, so I opened my eyes.  He was sitting in a chair by my bed. His right eye was swollen shut. He had stitches in his chin and forehead and bruises around his neck. “Thomas brought you here when the coast was clear. We’re safe here–at least for the time being.”

I sat up quickly, “Holy Hell, what happened to you?”  Without even thinking about it I reached up and pressed a soft finger to the edge of the bruise under his eye.  “Thomas and I need to have a serious discussion about the definition of ‘Fine.'”  Brian sat perfectly still and let me touch his bruise carefully.

“Well, I think by fine he was trying to imply I wasn’t dead. I’m not dead, Irma.”

“That’s good.  I’m glad you’re not dead.”  I pulled my hand away and looked him in the eye. “What happened, Brian? What did you do?”

“Ran into Dean.  I guess I got on his bad side a bit.” Brian smiled, lopped sided with the stitches and the swelling, “I’m really not sure what I did to make him so angry.”

I didn’t want to encourage him–but I laughed. It was a quiet laughed, muted in the same panic that I’d been in for weeks. It wasn’t a proper laugh.  But it felt good to have a laugh anyway.  He leaned in and kissed me carefully on the forehead. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again, Brian Sheenan, not if I can help it.”

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Posted by on June 6, 2015 in Stories


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Fiction: Run (339 words)

“Miss Anna, you need to run.”  Anna whipped around to see the woman nicknamed “Grandmother,” Anna’s genetic identical from two attempts ago, now in her early fifties and an interesting insight into Anna’s own future.

“Oh, Grandmother, you startled me.”  Anna smiled, putting her coat down on the back of her desk chair, “Was I supposed to be expecting you?”

“No,” Grandmother crossed the room and closed the door tight, “And no one can know I was here.  You and Timothy have been determined a success, and I know what’s coming now.   You need to run before it does.”  It took Anna a second to process that Grandmother was serious.  She noticed the bag in the older woman’s hand.  She’d already packed for Anna.

“I don’t understand,” Anna replied, but she was already reaching to put back on her coat.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but there isn’t time to make you understand.  I’ve written out as much as I can for you.” She indicated to the bag as she slid it into Anna’s free hand.

“But, Timothy…”Anna started, but Grandmother was already shaking her head.

“He was given his choice. He turned your mother in.  She’s dead because Timothy chose them over a woman who is your genetic identical, a woman who carried you both to full term.  Do you think that is unlike him?”

Anna wanted to deny it.  She wanted to swear loyalty to her brother the way they had trained her to do and to insist that he couldn’t have done that.  But she knew better.  “Are you coming with me?”

“I can’t.  I’ll just slow you down.  Besides, I can do you more good by staying here, helping to cover your tracks, and buying you as much time as possible.”  Anna understood that too, so she just stepped forward and kissed Grandmother on the cheek. Anna knew she’d never see her again.  Grandmother held her tightly by the upper arms for a second.  It was the closest they’d ever gotten to a proper hug in this place.  “Your mother wanted to call you Lydia.  Of course they wouldn’t let her, we’ll all Annas.  But if you need to change your name out there…”

“Lydia,” Anna smiled, “I can work with that.” Grandmother let her go, and Anna opened the door and disappeared down the dark hall, wondering what she was going to do next.

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Posted by on April 7, 2015 in Stories


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Fiction: Trains (252 words)

They took the train.  They took the train because it seemed like no one in America took the train anymore.  They took the train because there was less security.  They took the train because no one cared if you brought a drink on with you.  They took the train because it seemed so utterly ridiculous that an early twenties couple, both of whom had access to private jets, yachts, and personal cars and drivers, would hop on a train in coach class. They took the train because they figured that no one would look for them there.

And no one did.  They took the train wherever they felt like it.  They would disappear for weeks at a time, much the chagrin of both of their sets of parents, siblings, and friends.  Sometimes they rode the train to the absolute end of the line. Sometimes they randomly decided to hop off at a stop in the middle.

They ate many a processed and then microwaved hot dog.  They drank soda by the two dollar and twenty-five cent can. Once or twice, they bought everyone who wanted one a beer.

Sometimes they sat in the louder carriages, and spoke to whoever was willing to talk, about whatever they wanted to talk about.  Sometimes they sat in the quiet car, and didn’t even talk to each other.

All that mattered was they were together. They were together and in their own way they were alone.  And above all, above everything else, they were in love.

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Posted by on March 6, 2015 in Stories


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Fiction: Explain the Plan (195 words)

“I—I just don’t want to be the one who gets left behind.”  Camille confessed, and Harry’s heart broke.  He should have been more specific—more understanding.  Sometimes he just got so wrapped up in his plans that he forgot other people weren’t in his head.  He should have been clearer.

“No, no of course not.  We all get out of here or none of us do.  This isn’t about where we came from anymore.  This is about the fact that we’ve all been mistreated, all been abused here.  And we will get out—come hell or high water.  We will find out what happened to our families, and we will find a way to make sure this will never happen to anyone else again.” Harry pulled Camille into his arms and felt her rest against his chest. “No one is getting left behind. Especially not you.”

“Especially not me?” Camille sighed against him.

“Especially not you,” Harry repeated, “No matter what.”

“It’s really good to hear you say that.” He could practically feel the relief coming off her.  Perhaps they were more alike than he thought.

“You know what, it’s really good to get to say it.”

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Posted by on October 26, 2014 in Stories


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