This is for Emily’s Sunday Scrawl #1 photo prompt over at A Writer’s Beginning. And, I think it might be the start of a serial, but we’ll see.
It wasn’t far to go. And yet it was too far to get to. The weather made it harder, of course. It had begun to snow heavily some time in the night.
I sighed with frustration, and my breath frosted in the air before me. Even inside the shelter it was freezing. But there was nothing for it; I would have to do my best because this was the only chance I had.
I screwed up the message outlining the where and when, and thanked my lucky stars that someone was willing to help me get out of the city. Then, as quickly as I could, I packed up my meagre belongings and was on my way.
I crossed the settlement, and exited through a secret door in the town’s walls as per my instructions. On the other side was the forest.
I moved cautiously around the trees, careful to avoid any rabbit holes or sticking up roots that had been concealed by the snow. If I fell and twisted my ankle or broke my leg, well…that didn’t bear thinking about.
The going was slow. I tried to pick up the pace, conscious of the distance I had to go and the short time in which to do it. Panic and fear was never far away.
But then, through the leafless trees I glimpsed the railway line. I sighed with relief, though it was short-lived as the forest echoed with the sound of the approaching locomotive.
If I didn’t make the tunnel, I would miss the train. And if I didn’t make the train, I was as good as dead.
I broke out into a run, oblivious to all obstacles in my path. I had to make it. I had to.
But the question was, even if I managed to get on the train, was it fast enough to out run my past?