I present to you Eight Sentence Sunday, a blog hop hosted by Weekend Writing Warriors. I've been trying my hand at free writing lately, and this is my favorite piece from this week.
The blinding lights told us to evacuate. It was odd, seeing the lights go off without the sirens, and it told me so much more about the situation than they were willing to admit. They wanted us to escape alive, and the scientists were going to try to buy us some time. If the scientists didn’t trust these people then I was sure they were bad men.
The tunnel curved down and to the left. In instinctively touched me left shoulder where the barbwire had cut me during one of my more successful escape attempts. The barbs had been poisoned though, and I had collapsed in a confused stupor which lasted for weeks.
Eventually someone’s wife took pity on me and snuck me a pillbox full of relief. If that woman hadn’t done that then I’m sure I wouldn’t be here today, running away yet again. But this time my escape was approved and easier than any of my other attempts.
Yet the question that filled my past days remains. What’s outside, and what will I do with my freedom?
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