The Runaway

112-07-july-12th-2015The boat approached the bridge. “Are you nervous at all?” Captain Stephen asked.

“Nervous about what?” Co-captain Arnold replied. Stephen glanced at the rug in the middle of the cockpit. Earlier, as their boat set sail, their crew were staring at the rug, commenting how it was an odd place for a rug. One of them had even tried to move the rug causing Stephen to almost threaten him that if anyone touches the rug, he will be shot. The fact was no one knew the captains were transporting a very precious cargo.  “Just cross the damn bridge and everything’ll be fine.”

“Let’s hope so.” Stephen cruised the boat underneath the bridge. The patrol boats didn’t give them a second glance as they passed. “Okay, we’re good.” He muttered the moment the patrol boats were behind them. Arnold stepped to the center of the room, flipped over the rug, and pulled the hatch of the trapdoor and said, “Annie, you’re safe now.”

A girl emerged from the shadows. She had flaming red hair, blue eyes, and a face full of freckles. She climbed the ladder and joined the captains. “What you’ve done for me, I will forever be grateful.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Stephen said. “Thank us when we get to France. In the meantime, I think you should tell us why you ran away from your family.”

A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction


13 thoughts on “The Runaway

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