Trapped

You can’t escape them…they’ll always find you.

I run, and run, and run until my feet give out. Don’t stop, don’t look—don’t get caught.
I get back up and stumble towards the door.

Farther, just a little farther,” I whisper to myself.

I hear footsteps behind me, pounding, pounding, pounding. I can’t help it…I look back. Armed men chase me with rifles strapped to their backs.

Shouldn’t have looked back…

I finally make it towards the door. I desperately grab the knob and turn it. The door doesn’t open. I try again, and again, and again.

No luck.

I run my hands through my knotted hair and slump against the door. The men are getting closer. They’ll catch me any second now.

Great, one more month trapped here.

My vision blurs and everything falls apart. I feel hands grab me and pull me to my feet. Before I get dragged back into my cell, I hear someone whisper, “Maybe next time…”

1 Comment on Trapped

  1. Mrs. Kriese
    March 18, 2016 at 7:05 pm (3 years ago)

    “I run, and run, and run until my feet give out. Don’t stop, don’t look—don’t get caught.
    I get back up and stumble towards the door.” Wonderful use of repetition here!

    Excellent narrative writing, Kelley.

    Reply

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