Wild

A girl on the edge. Running. Running for her life. Running for her freedom. Can she escape the shackles of society to truly be wild?

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3. Chained

Clang.

Clink.

Rattle.

The sounds of my steel chains falling against each other echo across the dry plains. Workers scurry around me, busy carrying props, liquids and other assorted goods from one caravan to another, their own chains' adding to the haunting melody, creating a discordant noise.

In a peculiar way, it pleases me, for it reflects the situation that I find myself trapped in, day after day. A never ending agony of repetitive tasks, none of which relate to the other, which I complete in a monotonous fashion. All excitement has long since been drained out of me, until I am only a shell, merely going through the motions, no longer feeling any hint of emotion; for me, or any of the other poor, wraith-like souls held prisoner here.

Once, when I first arrived, I dreamed of escape. Of running away, building myself a new life someplace else, someplace better. I even tried it once, sneaking out in the dead of night, fleeing through the long grasses that, back then, set the scene. I reached the edge of the woods with no signs of pursuit, and let loose a scream of happiness, for I was finally free. That was a mistake.

As I turned to continue my wild flight, shadows pulled away from the trees and bushes, surrounding me. I should have run. But I was too scared; too weak. Instead, I cowered on the ground, frightened of these terrifying beasts that approached me. Yet another mistake.

They grabbed me, rough paws scraping me, talons digging in to my delicate skin, ripping it, shredding it. The shadows dragged me away from the woods, my sanctuary, back across the fields of grass, back to where fires flickered at the edge of the camp I so desperately wanted to escape.

As they dumped me back into my caravan, wrapping chains round my wrists and ankles, I realised my biggest mistake.

I should have known better than to think I could escape.

 

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