escape - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Escape is the led by the first glimmer of light in a world that has been in shadows for longer than memory and to have the courage it takes to reach for that unfamiliar promise of better days.
I hear the sound of breaking glass, yet this time it is a music that vanishes deep scars; for I am the one escaping a prison invisible to others. Wounds heal as if my blood were liquid magic. Then I watch the shards shrink in moments as if the waters of the ages had weathered them to friendly gem-like pebbles, soft to my soles.
The tunnel curled away coldly into infinite dark, the light that showed the rough walls dwindling as it snaked away. My skin shuddered and I could feel my brain starting to defocus, searching for a way out... I should go backwards...up there, to the forest where the paths run in every direction...
When my mind has ceased it's unproductive buzz, I am able to start thinking my way out this mess. If I run the Greapers will catch me, if I stay I'm as good as dead, so I have only two options; up or down. Down means burial in leaf litter but I haven't got time to dig a depression to conceal my bulk, up is faster. So my dilated pupils scan for the best tree, it has to be tall, lots of branches to climb and enough leaves left from this encroaching autumn give me some cover. My options are fairly limited but I pick a mature Beech. The rough bark scuffs at my skin but these crude pursuers don't have science or dogs. All they have are blood red uniforms, masks and clumsy feet that announce how little time I have left. They are closing in from all angles now. My heart thuds more loudly that I wish it would, but I remind myself that this drum is only beating in my own ears. Those Neanderthals below are clueless. When their net closes and the woods are empty about them they howl and gnash...
I wake like I'm hooked up the mains. No sleepiness, no slow warming up. Within seconds of realizing I was unconscious I am on my feet, eyes wide, dreams not just forgotten but obliterated. I am drinking in the feedback of all my senses. Aside from my own noisy breath there is nothing to be heard and the woods are simply too dark to see much at all. Black trunks against an almost black backdrop doesn't make for much too see and my imagination begins to supply horrors to fill the void. After a minute or two the sound of running water permeates the inky blanket. I am near a brook. A brook would hide my scent, cover my tracks. I want to run, but it is with faltering steps and raised hands I move on, like a sick game of "blind man's bluff." I want to silence my feet, but all I do is step on twigs and kick stones.
I've seen darkness before, the kind that makes our street like an old fashioned photograph, everything a shade of grey. This isn't like that. This is the darkness that robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralysing fear. In this darkness I sit, muscles cramped and unable to move. I only know my eyes are still there because I can feel myself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs I have no current use for. I can't hear anything either. I guess that should bring my heart rate down below the level of “rabbit in a snare” but it doesn't. By my genes I am a predator, I have the front facing eyes and brain enough to hunt, but I feel like prey in this utter black. The dawn is many hours away and until that precious time I can only wait. Moving makes noise, it's bad enough I still have to breath. But I want to see tomorrow enough to make me hold this position for as long as it takes. Not making it means not being there for Sharla and that is something I would never willingly do. Abandoning isn't my thing.
Ryan could feel the cuffs digging into his wrists and rope around his ankles; his left cheek lay firmly in the muddy dust that coated the cold concrete floor. From a high window came rectangle of daylight, sending white beams to illuminate the grime and show the dust that swirled in the air. If he could reach it he could find out where he was. Even if he couldn't tell the exact location, even just knowing if he was still in LA would be something. He strained his ears for sounds, for cars or for ships. Were there gulls or garden birds? Was this industrial or residential? Again he focused on the window, the frame was new but it wasn't the sort you could open. There must be ventilation shafts. He knew how to get his hands free, he just didn't relish doing it. Enough pressure in the right spot would break his thumb, then it would be time to check out and report in.
The ocean lapped at the sand leaving its lacy foam to trail the waves as they retreated. Jenny placed a quick toe in the water and took it back even quicker. It was icy. How the fish could stand to live in there was beyond her comprehension, but behind her was Grey and his gang and the only way to escape was a swim to the buoy. If she could rest there until they gave up and then swim back she had a chance, a small one. Remaining where she was was a death sentence, and not a painless one either. She took her clothes of fast, keeping only her underwear and her backpack with the thermal pads. Surviving out there would be no picnic, she'd be hypothermic in minutes.
The knife was little more than a rusted and jagged blade set in aging wood. The handle was warped and held together by a brass-looking screw. Tina eyed it like it was solid gold briefly before stowing it under her prison-grey clothing and returning to planting the carrot seeds, perhaps there was promise to this spring after all.
Polly took the butter knife and slid it up her sleeve for later. It wasn't the steak knife she's been hoping for, but given enough force behind it into some soft region and would get the job done. Then she scooped up her basked of cotton balls and pretended to suck on a cut finger, allowing the blood to dribble down her chin to make the point. That way the knife would stay inside her cotton dress and she could think over this new element to her escape plan. Now that the ideas were starting to knit together she didn't mind the cold night draft nearly so much- the longer she stayed awake the faster she could plot. It wasn't like she could miss the morning wake-up bell, clanging so loud she thought it was inside her head.
The sky plunged into an ominous darkness, awakening predatory creatures out of their lair. I jumped as a distant bloodcurdling howl made my hair stand on end. I watched anxiously as the forest slowly transformed into a lethal playground. Tree branches stretched out in front of me, forming a cavern of distorted limbs that seemed to reach out and grab my flesh. A vile pain spread throughout my chest like a deadly infection and my lungs beseeched me to stop walking. My knees felt like rubber after running constantly for hours and now I gulped selfish breaths of air. Helpless, I walked on, my feet dragging noisily on the carpet of lifeless leaves, each step triggering a rush of pain in my chest. In spite of my feeble condition, my lips curled into a smile as the realization that I had escaped finally struck me.
I felt smug at my little victory, I had really made it. I was free from the filthy clutches of the cruel government. I was finally going home, a home whose wings had not yet been torn by the evil federal government. A home still thriving, still breathing without restrictions, or so I hoped. The leaders of my village have managed to keep the village hidden from the federal government's radar for years. However, the fear of everything being forcefully taken away from them still resided deep in their hearts. The brutal federal government toyed with the lives of innocent people for the sake of ruling a land that is not theirs. Their objective was to assemble hundreds of laboratories that carried out unnatural experiments on humans and animals to modify their genetic makeup in order to create an army of invincible mutants that would help them conquer the world. The prisoners that resisted or attempted to escape were tortured and some even killed. The leader of the federal government was blinded by her lust for power. She was ruthless and merciless. I had been lucky to escape.