This week, your prompt is a simple concept that can be fraught with complication.
You have 400 words to write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece about freedom, in any way that makes sense to you.
At first, I was stumped. No ideas about this prompt came to mind. I thought about skipping it. After all, I had a lot of work to do with getting Snapshots ready for release day, so if I couldn't squeeze it in, it was understandable. I could still check out the other prompts. Then I remembered a scene in Snapshots that was perfect.
Sweat beaded on my brow and my heart pounded in my chest. Every muscle ached with tension. I sucked in a slow breath, closing my eyes and trying to ease the anxiety rolling through me. It was simple. Reach out, turn the knob, and open the door. I could do it. Nothing was holding me back. Master’s control over me had been shattered.
But to do this, to open this door, meant there was no turning back. I was committing to escaping.
Jacob tugged on the hem of my shirt, staring down the stairs. What about Keandra?
I gave him a reassuring smile. “We’re not leaving her, don’t worry. I’m just going to check out the hallway. I want you to wait here and keep a look out. If you see the lab door open or hear sounds coming from the lab, tell me, okay?”
Jacob nodded, clutching Springy to his chest.
Turning back to the door, I pushed my anxiety back and grabbed the knob. It opened with a soft click. I crouched down and crawled into the hallway. My eyes locked on the lab door at the far end of the hallway. At this time of night, Master would be upstairs sleeping, but I wasn’t going to let that lower my guard. When I felt confident enough, I stood and headed towards the opposite door – the door to freedom.
As I crept along, I scanned along the ceiling. I was certain there were no cameras, but again, I was keeping my guard alert. The silence in the hallway was eerie, like the calm before the storm.
I froze when I reached the door. Uncertain questions flooded my mind. Should I try it? See if it was unlocked? And what if it was? A locked door wouldn’t be an obstacle; I was confident I could bust it down. That would draw attention though, and that was the last thing we needed when trying to escape. I had to know, I decided. If it wasn’t locked, great. If it was, then I would have to alter my plans to account for the noise breaking it down would cause.
Why didn’t someone in the gang teach me to pick locks? I thought as I reached for the knob.
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