The Unfortunate Happenings of Missy Plume

There is a reason for everything, some are reasonable, some strange but still slightly believable and some that make no sense whatsoever. Although I do very much like the strange and unexplainable this time I really must say I need a reasonably explainable, excusable reason to get me out of that noose in seven short days or at least out of this cold, dark and gloomy jail cell that I am stuck in this very moment- but you probably already know if you are reading the walls in cell no. 69, if you aren’t though this has hopefully been written and published by someone claiming to have come up with this, although unfortunate, extremely well written piece...
Thanks to Lilly Anna for the awesome cover.


5. Croissants



“So, who are you exactly?” questioned Marietta

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet, have I? I’m Missy, Plume, that is.” I replied, looking down, from outside the broken glass of the window, at my hands. I knew someone would come and it was better sooner than later, as I saw it.

“Oh, that’s a nice name…” she said turning her head so her eyes reached every corner of the room gazing at everything that came into her area of sight, she rose onto the balls of her feet and then falling back to her heels and again and again and over and over again. I turned my head slightly so I could see her clearly from my left eye as she stood there awkwardly and the faintest smile was brought to my lips.

“We aren’t staying here for long… right?” she said questioningly

“It really depends, whether or not we have to or we need to.” Not even I knew exactly what I had said but it seemed to make enough sense even though not everything had to at certain points.

“Er, right. Wait, what?”

“Well, I don’t really get it either, but it’ll make sense sometime, hopefully.” Saying that I turned back to the window, one of the ends of my long plaits caught on a jagged shard of window and cut itself off, letting the cut-off-ends fall to the ground far below-that I was sure would prove to be a disadvantage. I stared out at a point, behind the cluster of other buildings, silhouetted black, against the golden, setting sun; the Eifel Tower.


The bed was exceedingly uncomfortable; there was a broken spring poking into my rib-cage, sending me sharp and painful jabs for every breath I took, and Marietta next to me-sleeping head to toe-tugging the only just big enough covers, whether she was awake or asleep, and me tugging them back. The pillow, well that was another problem; hard and very uncomfortable, I had a feeling it was styrofoam. I threw it halfway across the room, landing on the floor with a muffled thump as it cracked in two. I sighed and laid my head back onto where the hard brick of a pillow had been. Dawn was soon to come and I needed that sleep, and with that I drifted off into blackness…

The sun shone bright over the tall rooftops and that tall metal stick in the near distance. The light shone through the broken window, the occasional glinting shard that I tried to avoid. The room was full of the natural yellow light. I got out from the sheets only half covering me, slipping on my black boots with the two concealed knives-and a collection of other small and useful objects-and stood up to look into the small framed mirror, stepping back and standing on my toes to look  at the my crinkled blue dress that I tried-to no success-to brush away. And then I looked at my two plaits; a bit messier than usual, but to that I just shook my head, whipping them around my shoulders. I took my eyes off my scruffy appearance to the girl still lying in bed. Dazed and half asleep. There she was looking at me from under the covers with her half open eyes slowly closing from the weight of her heavy eyelids.
I rolled my eyes.
She wasn't ever a morning person.
"Well, let's find some food!" and after that: "I'm starving,"
My stomach let out a growl of agreement and she rolled out of bed.
the grey streets of Paris were cold in the slowly rising rays of the warming sun. We stepped out of the boarded-up building. The wind brushed against our cheeks and as we walked further into the heart of Paris our flushed cheeks turned a darker, brighter red.

Even though it was chilly; I would most definitely prefer to be in those grey streets than here in this dingy cell. Almost no light seeps through the small, barred window and in the rare occasions it does this season, they have been the gelid, wintry white rays of limited daylight that send one shivering when one steps into the dim spotlight. Oh how I wish I could be in a place like that again sometime soon. No matter how dirty those streets were.

And they were.

We passed small shops cafés and bakeries and lots of sweet smells to water ones mouth. I closed my eyes for a second and let the scents waft into my nose. I opened my eyes to see a waiter lay out three fresh croissants on one of the many circular metal tables at the café in front of my eyes. I turned to Marietta, her eyes widened with an ‘are you crazy?’ look.

I picked my way through the jumble of cold tables and chairs and slipped one carefully into my pocket, then acted as if I had dropped something and snatched another one quickly off the table, walked out of the maze of silver. I turned to Marietta and motioned for her to copy. She started walking around the chairs and towards the last croissant. A chair or two were bumped as she picked up speed-nervousness, most likely. This gave her a slight amount of attention from the waiters in the café. Clumsily, she picked up the croissant knocked over the table it was on and sent the closest waiter running after her; both of them knocking down a considerable amount of tables and chairs which clinked as they fell to the floor.

“Revenir, revenir!” he shouted at her as she ran away snatching glimpses as she occasionally turned her head.

‘Come back’? Unlikely.

I ran towards her and then whispered something only loud enough for her to hear. We made a sharp turn left and another a while after.

Finally we had lost him; there were no heavy, uneven footsteps to be heard. Actually the only thing to be heard was our loud panting and fast heartbeats. Our breath rose in clouds which contorted and spread until they disappeared.

“Come on,” I puffed

“Where are we even going?” her voice echoed around us, “Half the time-actually-never do I ever know where we are going.” here she lowered her voice

“Well, have you ever been on the Eiffel Tower?”

There was no reply but I was sure I knew the answer.

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