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.


7. Out The Window


Out The Window

It had been about three days of the same; waking up stealing some sort of food and occasionally being chased, then we'd sit somewhere and eat whatever we had. It was nice, I guess. It was the fourth day at this point.
I had woken up looked myself up and down in the mirror and waited for Marietta to wake up. I stood by the shattered window. It was about six and there was rarely a soul on the dark street. I was probably owned the only eyes viewing the streets, until I saw the dark, clad figure approach. What worried me was that he stopped right at he doorstep of Madame Polly's. I stood at the window for a few seconds as realisation poured over me like a fountain.
I knew who he was. And we needed to get out of there, fast.
I shook Marietta and pushed her off the bed. My heart was racing, he wasn't supposed to know where we were, he wasn't even supposed to know I was with Marietta. This was bad. Worse than really bad. Quickly I pulled the sheet off the bed, tieing each one together and ran to the window. I grabbed the fragile curtains and knotted them onto my makeshift rope of blankets and rapidly opened the window causin a large chunk of glass to fall to the ground and shatter. Outside the window at ground level the figure was lcomed into the building, as soon as he passed through the threshold I took no haste in lowering my rope.
Marietta was staring at me through her tired eyes when I turned around,
"Get everything, we need to go"I commanded
she listened and I tuned back to my rope and the windowchecking the strength of the sheets.
"Everything," she stated
"Okay, now we really need to climb down here fast." I said
"What?" she almost screamed at me
"We have to climb down here" I restated
"Well, follow me if you want but I don't want to end up like.. your mother."I needed to think to make sure that last part was right, I didn't need any more trouble then.
She shook her head.
"Look that man is here for one reason only; because he's looking for you, well, us." I had already started clambering down. Finally her head poked out of the window and out she climbed.
Her attempt was horrible. She almost tripped on her way out and her dirty, but still light pink dress acquired a new rip from the hem to a quarter of the way up her thigh. On the way down she didn't hesitate to get tangled more than once.
I yanked on the rope and it untied itself from the curtain just as I heard the door of our room open. I dumped all the sheets in a nearby rubbish bin and we both ran as fast as we possibly could. One would be wise to say that we were running for our lives because we were.

Even if I wasn’t there I know what happened at the precise moment they entered the room. Madame Polly and the black suit… Something unaccounted for. Something I know I must tell you, something I know I will regret but must tell you even if it has little reason to do with how I ended up here in darkening darkness. But I do not see the point in not telling you because all you’ll do is wonder what happened and there’s no use in reading on for that reason because I wouldn’t really tell you anywhere later on, whether I have room on these dirty walls or not.


The door burst open, storming through it came the black suit and behind him hurried the owner of the house, Madame Polly.

“Where are those two!” he yelled and turned on his heels to face Madame Polly with his shoulders hunched

“Sorry, monsier, I have not seen them.” Her accented voice seemed to echo in the nearly empty room.

“Nuisance!” he turned around and saw the wide window, “the window, it’s open. Why?”

The curtain was hanging out the window and it was weighed down by something

“I don’t know. It shouldn’t be, I told them not to touch it.”

“Aha!” he walked swiftly towards it and something yanked it, not something, me. Footsteps followed, two pairs of feet running, one pair heavy as if in boots, another light and dainty.

“Uurh! You let them to get away!” he turned his head to one side and back again, put his hand into his coat and out and then, anger pulsing through his veins and rising up his arm; he turned on his heel speedily, raised the knife in his hand halfway through and flung it at her chest. It hit its target all too soon.

He walked forward and pulled the knife out of her chest, stepped on her and walked out of the door, down the staircase creaking beneath his feet and out of the front door to follow us. We seemed to be Paris’ most wanted.

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