During lockdown I've done many pieces of writing, for competitions and myself, and one of the pieces I wrote was for a challenge organised by Autocrit - a community of authors.
The title of the challenge was 'Destination Unknown' and the reason why it was called this was because we had two weeks to write a maximum of 1500 words, but the piece had to begin with, 'We reached the third day of our journey and, to be honest, things were not going well'.
A week later, two twists were introduced; the piece had to end with the line, 'I'd rather be a bird than a fish', and we had to have as little repetition as we could.
It was a fun challenge. One that made you reach outside of the box.
And so, here is what I wrote:
We reached the third day of our journey and, to be honest, things were not going well.
The weather terrorised us, dragging us down with each step we took, and the internal battle grew stronger every passing minute. It was the middle of Autumn, and we were desperate to get away, to escape the horror we were leaving behind but little did we know what lay ahead.
Skeletons of the past; monsters of the present; demons of the future. All things that could destroy us stood in our way, blocking our route to complete freedom. And they were all accompanied by mother nature -- the relentless, barbarous and implacable force of life.
The increasingly tempestuous rain came pelting down from above, merciless, ricocheting off our skin; dark ash-grey clouds encased the sun in a pit of darkness, making the terrain more dangerous than ever. There was an absence of light, of hope, as we continued our trek into the depths of the forest. Gusts of wind raced through, knocking leaves from their homes, as branches shivered in the cold, yearning for some warmth. The abandoned parts of the tree flew to us, sticking to our wet bodies, eventually leaving after deciding we were not a good fit for a new home.
Even mother nature thought we were bad, troubled kids who weren't good enough.
That's all we heard in our lives, that the six of us weren't worth the effort, or the time; we were isolated in our little town, and so we decided to leave. Escape. Run and take our chance at freedom. All we wanted was to be accepted and included but our neighbours saw us as outcasts, as fugitives destined to be locked away in a cell to conceal the truth. The sheriff had arrested us before, claiming we had threatened to kill a classmate; the mayor had persuaded the judge and jury to determine that we were guilty; our parents didn't care (grateful for the opportunity -- good riddance they said); and so, it was down to us to take matters into our own hands.
And that's when we escaped from Barhall Prison, and started our journey to exemption.
The first couple of days were okay -- we managed -- but the third was when mother nature turned angry, and our internal battles clawed their way out into the open.
"I don't care what you think Rowan! I'm more concerned about leaving this damn forest and getting somewhere safe, away from" -- Ada threw her hands around -- "all this."
"Well I'm sorry that I worry about my family!"
"Why would you? They've never even-"
"That is enough! Both of you," I shouted in a rage. They turned to look at me, fear haunting their eyes, as the other three -- Jace, Cameron and Brooklyn -- were huddled under a tree, leaning against the bark.
"I know that we're all a bit stressed, and our destination isn't exactly determined, but we need to stick together. If we can't even be civil with each other then," I took a deep breath in, "this isn't going to work at all."
"You're right. I'm, uh, I'm sorry," Ada said with her eyes downcast. Rowan apologised quickly after, muttering the words quietly.
The rain was finally easing on the evening of our third day, allowing us to dry our clothes, at least for a little while. The sky above was still shielded from our sight by the clouds that formed a protective layer, almost as if they were afraid that we would see something up there, a weapon we could utilise.
Lost in my thoughts, fighting with the demons who lived in my mind, Cameron pulled me from the trance asking for my aid with setting up camp for the night. Brooklyn and Jace had started a fire from wood strewn across the ground; Ada was attempting to put up the tents, but failing miserably so Rowan tucked away his pride and went to help.
"Come with me to hunt for food." I turned my head to Cameron, who was staring at me expectantly with his hand held out, ready for my grasp.
"Fine." Glancing around at our surroundings, I continued, "Do you have something to kill with?"
"Something, as in?"
"Well, we need some way to capture it otherwise we're going to starve and I for one don't fancy being hungry the entire time we're in this forest!" Looking at me, he pulled a knife from the back of his cargo pants.
"A blade. Good. That's – that’s good."
We walked through foliage and dodged different things falling from the trees, as we made our way to the little pond situated in the middle of the woods. It was full of iridescent fish swimming in a home of freedom, oblivious to the predators roaming. Water splashed upwards, covering my black boots, making them glisten slightly. Cameron crouched down low; the blade tightly gripped in his left hand. He spotted the one he wanted to catch and when it was near, he lunged at it, missing a few times before grasping it in his right hand. The two of us held the animal down as it flapped about, trying to get free, but it had no luck as Cameron brought the tip down, plunging it into the fish's neck. I heard a crack, and winced turning away.
"We should get this back to others," Cameron said, and then we both got up, him carrying the knife with the dead fish attached.
Heading back towards our camp for the night, I noticed just how deafeningly silent it was. There was no pelting of the rain, no echoes of wind, no crackle of a nearby fire -- there was nothing; just the sounds of Cameron's and my breaths. As we drew nearer, we couldn't hear the voices of our friends. I spun around, facing Cameron; a look of worry written all over my face.
"Can you hear that?" I asked, wanting him to answer yes.
"Hear what?"
My heart dropped. At that moment, fear became a living, tangible thing that consumed me. My heartbeat started racing to the point of no return, sweat gathered on my palms and one word was ripped from my throat, Run!
Sprinting back to camp, Cameron followed closely behind.
He was shouting behind me, "Esme! What are you doing? What's wrong?"
There wasn't enough time to stop and explain, I just needed to get us back, get our stuff and our friends and leave as fast as we could. That was my plan. But unfortunately, fate had other ideas.
When we arrived, the only things that were there were the fire, still flaming strong, and our bags. As we moved around to have a look, to search for the others, acorns began falling and hitting Cameron and I -- or rather it seemed like they were being thrown. Looking up, straining my eyes to see in the dark, I caught sight of it...them.
Rowan, Ada, Jace and Brooklyn were all perched up in the branches. Their mouths were moving but I couldn't see what they were saying; and by the look on Cameron's face I could tell he was just as confused as I was.
Ada began whispering in a harsh tone, "Climb up. Get up here."
Cameron had already started climbing before I registered what Ida had said. The corpse of the fish lay on the damp floor whilst the blade was secured back in his belt. I moved towards the tree I deemed the easiest route and as I was about to lift myself from the ground, twigs snapped and footsteps could be heard surrounding the camp. Flashes of light flickered everywhere, but they ultimately landed on me.
"Well, well. Look what we have here, Miss Esme Stewart. Oh, how we've been looking for you!"
I twisted my body, pressing my back against the tree to face them. There were about six men, all dressed in soldier's uniforms with a gun holstered to their thighs. I knew who they were, why they were here.
"You need to come with us Miss Stewart. You're under arrest for treason of the darkest kind and you can either come willingly or we'll use force."
I remained silent, a blank expression on my face.
The guard to the right of me snarled, "What, cat got your tongue? Nothing to say?"
I looked at him, a wicked smile forming, as I said the words that I hoped the others would understand, "I'd rather be a bird than a fish."
*****
Until next time...
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