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Freedom!

by Lindsay Gill
9/23/2008 / Short Stories

The door clanged shut behind him, the metal reinforcements on the oaken frame sending resounding echoes throughout the dank dungeon. Small fingers wiped at the tears that streamed down his face, only muddling the dirt on his cheeks into a transparent stiffness, much like plaster. Nicholas stared blankly at the door, and then at the tray that held the wormy black bread and watery stew that had been hastily shoved through when the braced door had opened. His muck-ridden hair barely reflected its white-blond qualities through the squalor, and his big, wide-set grey eyes yearned for freedom from an unjust punishment.
Three months before, he had been nabbed by the king's men as a thief; of course, he hadn't ever stolen a crumb. Despite his extreme poverty, he had remembered forever the words of his parents before they had died of the Black Plague when he was six: don't steal. Nevertheless, his scruples hadn't saved him when the real thief had dropped the stolen gold in Nicholas's begging bucket, framing him and causing the king's men to accuse him of the deed.
Nicholas's head bobbed up from a semi-sleep at the sound of smelly rats scurrying to and fro along the floor, as they were apt to do. Something was different this time, though. There was more scurrying. Peeking through his matted hair, Nicholas perceived a slit of light streaming into his cell. Achingly, he dragged his weak ten year old form over to it. Surprisingly, he could see into the hall: when the guard slammed the door shut, the lock mechanism must have slipped and made the door bounce out slightly.
He wasn't about to let the only opportunity of escape slip by without an effort on his part, so he sidled out the crack, widening it carefully hoping it wouldn't creak.
It didn't make a sound.
By-stepping the greasy puddles of refuse that dotted the lower halls of the old prison, he sneaked his way to what he thought was the most probable way out, judging from the direction the guards usually took as they left their job. Since it was evening, the warden and jailers would be changing shift.
He just hoped it wasn't the day.
On the day, the warden was on duty. This warden, a foul sort all scraggily, disheveled, and stinky, with a full, tangled beard that always caught what he had had for lunch was the nightmare of the whole jail. And his temper was an exact reflection of his appearance: awfully extreme. No one crossed this man. Even the rougher riff-raff gave him his space and were more quiet on his day.
Nicholas nudged open the door to the end of the hall, a door of an even heavier wood-and-metal trimming. As he slunk inside, he saw it.
The warden.
But the warden was asleep chin on chest, drool from lip, feet on stool, slouched in chair. A bellowing snore erupted from his direction, attesting to just how seriously he took his job. Above the warden's head was lodged a window that showed the outside light; the world was only was just that far away! Nicholas cautiously tried the door immediately to the left of the snoozing warden, but it was locked: there was no escape.
The warden stirred, and Nicholas jumped behind a locked chest in the corner, trying to hide, ducking down as far as he could. As the warden moved, a jingling of keys caught captive Nicholas's glad ears. If he could simply get those keys, he would be saved!
Warily reaching forth his hand, as if into the lion's toothed maw, Nicholas pinched the great, wrought-iron ring that held all of the keys together. Soundlessly, he lifted it into the air and breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he dropped it.
The warden jumped up at the chinking plop the keys made as they hit the floorboard, and he looked around for the cause of the disturbance.
He saw Nicholas. He recognized Nicholas. He chased Nicholas.
Whirling around the room like winds, the two played at cops and robbers with full passion, the warden wild eyed and Nicholas fear-y eyed.
"I'm going to get you, you urchin!" the warden screamed as he extended his thick hands toward the child. Grabbing at the night-stick on the wall, he swung at the boy, nigh missing his head with fell swings.
With one bad turn, Nicholas was backed into a corner, trapped like a rabbit an innocent bunny, morelike. He bit his lips and squinted his eyes, squeezing out salty tears. With a reverberating roar, the warden rushed him with his hands, not the night-stick. Perhaps he only wanted to capture Nicholas. nah. On the inspiration of a hunch, Nicholas split from his almost cemented fear-hold against the wall and zipped through the warden's legs, away from the horrid man.
Desperate, Nicholas darted toward his last remaining hope. There was another door inset in the room, one that he hadn't yet tried.
It was unlocked!
Wrenching it open with shaking hands, he cowered into it and leapt down its unlighted halls with the speed given only to those who are about to die. The tunnel gradually descended into the earth and a crossroads appeared; he could hear the warden's pounding feet and mad yowling not far behind him, so he hurriedly chose the left path.
After a few minutes of more running, he exhaustedly collapsed onto the mildewed floor. A rancid tang stole into his nose, making him sneeze. It must have been the tunnel that reeked, not having any exposure to the sun ever. Picking himself off the cobbles, he hauled himself willfully forward. The warden was not to be heard behind him, for he had seemed to have lost him sometime after the crossroads.
Far up ahead was that a light? Gently, a breeze wafted onto his steaming cheeks, cooling them. Freedom was assured.
Nicholas began to run, urging every erg of speed out his fatigued frame. Yes, freedom, life, the world was ahead a new start.
Suddenly, out whipped a shrieking blade from a hidden recess in the wall, cutting off his head.
No one escapes those prisons alive. That's the rule. That's the reality.

As of now, I am in eleventh grade and college (dual credits). Though young, my ambition is to become a writer in some capacity or another, whether by it being my mainstay, or just a lucrative hobby. I'm writing three books currently. To contact me, email me at: [email protected]

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