And Now We Run.
On the run. (1)
Victorian London, 1846
It was a miserable cold night in London, 1846. The sharp cold breeze cutting through the curtains of the bedchamber, causing them to flutter and sweep off the dust coated floor. Outside the streets were empty other than the few stragglers who were hurrying to get home in the miserable drizzling rain. Women scurried forwards, heads bowed and bonnets tipped to conceal their face from the stinging pecks of falling raindrops. And while their middle-aged style skirts and petticoats fluttered in the brumid breeze, a 15 year old girl wearing a modern day hoodie watched from the open window of her isolated bedchamber.
Her eyes cool and steady, hands gripping the sill as she watched the courtyard below. She looked at the device on her watch, from first glance it would look like just a technical gadget watch, but the green lit digits weren't counting up, they were going down. 13 minutes to go. Her attention suddenly flickered to the now opening gate of the courtyard, the lit candle on the bedside table reflecting dancing flames onto her light grey eyes. The gates opened with a painful groan, letting the soldiers crammed behind the door suddenly spill out onto the courtyard, swords clattering in their sheaths and torches burning brightly in their hands.
The girl moved away from the window sill, quickly returning to her bed where her rucksack lay waiting, the previous contents surrounding it. She suddenly started shoving everything back in, occasionally glancing at the strange device on her wrist. 8 minutes to go. She heard shouting in the courtyard, then the barks of orders before it went silent again. They were in the house.
Quickening her pace she started ramming everything carelessly into the rucksack, cursing the countdown on the device, enough time to get away but it still wasn't ready! 6 minutes to go. More shouts were heard throughout the house now, she could hear them echoing up the stairs, bouncing off the walls. They were drawing nearer. She blew out the flame on the candle, suddenly enveloped into total darkness, colours appearing before her eyes as they adjusted to the sudden lack of light. 4 minutes to go.
She zipped the rucksack up, slinging it onto her shoulders and pulling up her hood to conceal her face and brown hair. Footsteps. They were drawing closer. The echoing sound of footsteps as boots slammed down onto the concrete stairs leading up to the bedchamber, she could practically smell the burning charred wood of the torches they were carrying. 3 minutes to go.
The girl began pacing the room agitatedly, constantly watching the device, begging it to hurry up so she could leave. Why did it have to take so long? BANGBANGBANG. She jumped in surprise at the sudden banging on the wooden door, so loud it made the glass of the window shudder in its frame and the chandelier above her head start swinging on its cord. 2 minutes to go, the banging got louder and the shouts were getting heavier. Her eyes froze on the door, her palms suddenly getting sweaty and clammy. It was only a matter of time now.
The girl backed away from the door, approaching the window where she jumped up and perched on the sill. They were shouting for her. Calling her name. Demanding she open the door this instant otherwise they were going to break it down. Which is exactly what they started doing. It went silent for a few daunting seconds. And then the banging on the door got much more extreme and harsher, making the hinges rattle and the wood shudder. They were breaking it down. She looked at the device. 1 minute. She cursed.
Last warnings. Silence. And one final barge. The door broke down, falling to the ground with a thud and then to be trampled on by several charging boots. She stared at the soldiers in wide-eyed terror, just managing to catch the 20 seconds shown on her device.
"If you give yourself up now," One said, "There will be no trouble."
But she only shook her head, backing up on the sill so her heals were just over the edge. She watched the men before her, crouched on the balls of her feet, arms spread out for balance. 4 seconds. Her eyes wide in terror, hair blowing in the breeze and latching onto her face. And then she leaned backwards, falling from the sill and out the window. The soldiers watched in horror as the teenage girl fell, running forward to catch her but they were too late, gloved fingers catching air.
The man who had spoke to the teenage girl leaned over the sill, looking down below to be faced with utter blackness. They soon ran out onto the courtyard, finding the tiles under the bedroom window neither bloody or holding the dead body of the girl. She was gone.
"That bedroom is 4 stories up," One soldier stated astounded. "She couldn't have survived that!"
"No," The other replied through gritted teeth, "She couldn't." "Look for her, whatever is left, bring it to me."
"Yes sir."
164 years later, a strange girl wearing a hoodie and a rucksack suddenly appears out of nowhere in the middle of the m14 motorway, just missing an oncoming car which swerves off to the side of the road to avoid hitting her, slamming into the fence and rolling onto its side, smoke rising from the bonnet. Tiles screech on the tarmac, horns beep as traffic builds up around the crashed car. Sirens announce the accident, racing to the rescue and a 15 year old girl runs out of the scene and into the bushes. She disappears out of sight, only to be remembered by the witnesses who saw her. But is never seen again.
It was a miserable cold night in London, 1846. The sharp cold breeze cutting through the curtains of the bedchamber, causing them to flutter and sweep off the dust coated floor. Outside the streets were empty other than the few stragglers who were hurrying to get home in the miserable drizzling rain. Women scurried forwards, heads bowed and bonnets tipped to conceal their face from the stinging pecks of falling raindrops. And while their middle-aged style skirts and petticoats fluttered in the brumid breeze, a 15 year old girl wearing a modern day hoodie watched from the open window of her isolated bedchamber.
Her eyes cool and steady, hands gripping the sill as she watched the courtyard below. She looked at the device on her watch, from first glance it would look like just a technical gadget watch, but the green lit digits weren't counting up, they were going down. 13 minutes to go. Her attention suddenly flickered to the now opening gate of the courtyard, the lit candle on the bedside table reflecting dancing flames onto her light grey eyes. The gates opened with a painful groan, letting the soldiers crammed behind the door suddenly spill out onto the courtyard, swords clattering in their sheaths and torches burning brightly in their hands.
The girl moved away from the window sill, quickly returning to her bed where her rucksack lay waiting, the previous contents surrounding it. She suddenly started shoving everything back in, occasionally glancing at the strange device on her wrist. 8 minutes to go. She heard shouting in the courtyard, then the barks of orders before it went silent again. They were in the house.
Quickening her pace she started ramming everything carelessly into the rucksack, cursing the countdown on the device, enough time to get away but it still wasn't ready! 6 minutes to go. More shouts were heard throughout the house now, she could hear them echoing up the stairs, bouncing off the walls. They were drawing nearer. She blew out the flame on the candle, suddenly enveloped into total darkness, colours appearing before her eyes as they adjusted to the sudden lack of light. 4 minutes to go.
She zipped the rucksack up, slinging it onto her shoulders and pulling up her hood to conceal her face and brown hair. Footsteps. They were drawing closer. The echoing sound of footsteps as boots slammed down onto the concrete stairs leading up to the bedchamber, she could practically smell the burning charred wood of the torches they were carrying. 3 minutes to go.
The girl began pacing the room agitatedly, constantly watching the device, begging it to hurry up so she could leave. Why did it have to take so long? BANGBANGBANG. She jumped in surprise at the sudden banging on the wooden door, so loud it made the glass of the window shudder in its frame and the chandelier above her head start swinging on its cord. 2 minutes to go, the banging got louder and the shouts were getting heavier. Her eyes froze on the door, her palms suddenly getting sweaty and clammy. It was only a matter of time now.
The girl backed away from the door, approaching the window where she jumped up and perched on the sill. They were shouting for her. Calling her name. Demanding she open the door this instant otherwise they were going to break it down. Which is exactly what they started doing. It went silent for a few daunting seconds. And then the banging on the door got much more extreme and harsher, making the hinges rattle and the wood shudder. They were breaking it down. She looked at the device. 1 minute. She cursed.
Last warnings. Silence. And one final barge. The door broke down, falling to the ground with a thud and then to be trampled on by several charging boots. She stared at the soldiers in wide-eyed terror, just managing to catch the 20 seconds shown on her device.
"If you give yourself up now," One said, "There will be no trouble."
But she only shook her head, backing up on the sill so her heals were just over the edge. She watched the men before her, crouched on the balls of her feet, arms spread out for balance. 4 seconds. Her eyes wide in terror, hair blowing in the breeze and latching onto her face. And then she leaned backwards, falling from the sill and out the window. The soldiers watched in horror as the teenage girl fell, running forward to catch her but they were too late, gloved fingers catching air.
The man who had spoke to the teenage girl leaned over the sill, looking down below to be faced with utter blackness. They soon ran out onto the courtyard, finding the tiles under the bedroom window neither bloody or holding the dead body of the girl. She was gone.
"That bedroom is 4 stories up," One soldier stated astounded. "She couldn't have survived that!"
"No," The other replied through gritted teeth, "She couldn't." "Look for her, whatever is left, bring it to me."
"Yes sir."
164 years later, a strange girl wearing a hoodie and a rucksack suddenly appears out of nowhere in the middle of the m14 motorway, just missing an oncoming car which swerves off to the side of the road to avoid hitting her, slamming into the fence and rolling onto its side, smoke rising from the bonnet. Tiles screech on the tarmac, horns beep as traffic builds up around the crashed car. Sirens announce the accident, racing to the rescue and a 15 year old girl runs out of the scene and into the bushes. She disappears out of sight, only to be remembered by the witnesses who saw her. But is never seen again.