Fresh from the Stream: Inner Worlock
He was running, with the others right on his tail. He couldn’t stop.
It’s too late now. I could have avoided all of this. But now It’s too late, and I have to run. I need to lose them. I’ll have to re-create myself. Start fresh. This is what I always wanted. But I was too scared. I could have waited longer and figured it out more. Made a better plan for my escape, and decided what I would do once I was free.
But now I’m running. And I’m getting closer to the city. I’ll be able to blend in, but they can call in reinforcements and there will be more people to see me running and suspect things. I need to lose them before we hit the surround wall. Once I come from under the overpass, I need to be nonchalant. There will be so many eyes.
The voices are getting more distant. I dare not look back. Not that it would inform any sort of decision at this point anyway. Either way, I need to keep running like hell. But there must be something to do to throw them off. I have a stolen bottle of shampoo in my backpack. I also have a broken beer bottle, but I need to hold on to that. It’s my only weapon. I planned on using the shampoo to build an explosive eventually. I figured it must be possible because of the way that you can’t carry shampoo on to airplanes. But there will be plenty more time to obtain shampoo once I’m in the city. Once I’m free.
Of course I won’t really be free. It’ll never be the way that it once was. Even after the deed is done. But perhaps that’s better. It took the last 5 years of confinement for me to realize how far I had been from really being free. How strong their hold was on me. They were all in on it. I can’t believe nobody else saw it. But soon I’ll fix it. I just need to get my hands on some more shampoo, and maybe some wire.
The ground is beginning to get more firm. I’ll be able to get a bit of a lead before they come out of the sand. My tracks will become less apparent. I’ll throw the bottle in to the creek to draw them here. Then dash to the right and lay low until they head off in another direction. Hopefully they’ll assume that I stepped through the creek to cross it, and they’ll go left.
I’m laying in the ivy. They’ve hesitated. They suspect something. They are examining the shampoo. The bald one is looking directly at me, but I’m fully in shadow, there’s no way he can see me.
They take off to the left. Someone thought they heard something. Thank god. Through some branches I can see the tower. I start walking. Slowly, quietly. With its rotating floodlight, the tower is like a landlocked lighthouse. We thought it would be such a great thing. We thought it would make us all feel safe and relaxed. They painted it the most disgustingly cheery white.
I have reached the wall. They’ve started locking the gates under the overpasses. Maybe it’s just because it’s night. Luckily the lock is rusted on this one. One calculated tap with a large rock knocks it right off. I waste no time sneaking through, for fear that the sound of the breaking lock had attracted the attention of a guard.
There’s bright light on the other end. And it’s just as I remembered it. Only there’s something disgusting. Something in the pit of my stomach. I know this will never be home again. I wish I had a hat to put on. Instead I just shove my hands in my pockets, bow my head, and walk. I become one with the bustle. Lost in the crowd. I’m free, but in a way it’s worse. In confinement at least I could act like a prisoner. I could cry. I could shout. I could talk to my self. Here I’m just as much of a prisoner, but I have to hide it. Just keep your head down and shut up. All the more reason to be quick about acting. It’s not like I have a place to sleep anyway, and they may have already launched a search party. I remember exactly where the parliament building is. I take a left on main, heading towards the super market. Aisle 7. Hair care.
