Escape

The little boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He sprinted down the dirt road, away from the house, guided by the bright, silvery-blue light of the full moon. A furious shriek came from inside the house, causing the boy to stop and turn around.

There was a light on in one of the rooms. Suddenly, a large figure appeared in the window, features obscured by the light behind it. The boy yelped in fear and darted into the wheat fields that lined either side of the road. The figure at the window howled in rage and disappeared from sight.

From its position in a high tree branch, the black cat could see the wheat stalks move as the boy carved out a path, moving quickly away from the house. It also saw the faintest hint of movement as the dark figure from the window darted out of the house and across the road, crashing through the wheat fields, heading directly for the boy.

The little boy ran and ran, until he was gasping for breath. But when he stopped to rest, he heard the sounds of his pursuer, far off at first, but closing in quickly. The boy struggled to keep his breathing under control, and he knelt down in the wheat, trying to make himself inconspicuous, as the sounds of the other person grew ever closer. He was scared, but he had to be strong. He couldn't let them take him back there.

And then suddenly, the man was standing near him. He too had stopped to catch his breath, and was no doubt listening for the sounds of the boy's escape. Only a few feet separated their location, and the boy knew that if they both stayed there, it was only a matter of time before the man spotted him in the bright moonlight.

The boy moved as carefully as he could, slowly away from the man, who was facing the opposite direction. Unfortunately, the dry wheat stalks were not kind to the boy, and one snapped as he moved over it. The man's ears instantly perked up and he turned toward the source.

It was now or never.

The boy took off like an Olympic runner, springing to his feet and running as fast as he could.

The man roared and gave chase, closing the distance between them with relative ease. The boy's legs worked overtime carrying him toward the woods on the outskirts of the property, where he knew he could lose the man. He had hidden there on many of his previous escape attempts; he found it to be much easier to hide there than in the open fields where his movements could be heard.

If he could get there in time.

The man was upon him. The boy ducked and darted, barely avoiding the clutching hands trying to grab him. The woods were in sight, but he felt the man grasp him by the back of the shirt, holding tight.

The boy struggled and squirmed, thrashing around in the man's hands. He was acting on pure instinct now. He knew he needed to break free. He must not be taken back. With some squirming and twisting, the boy wriggled free of the man's grasp and took off running again.

The man's frustrated howl traveled across the fields as the boy again sprinted for the woods. He was nearly there, but the man caught up with him again, this time picking the boy up and throwing him over his shoulder. The man dragged him back to the house, kicking and screaming the whole way.

"For the last time," the man replied, "You're taking a bath whether you like it or not! Why do you always have to make it so difficult?"

The man's son eventually gave up the fight and resigned to his fate.

But his mind had already started working again. The man may have won this round... but tomorrow night would be another story.


(666 words)