The young woman's flaxen hair was stained red. The ground was stained red. Her arms and legs were limp now, lifeless. But even in death she shone brighter than the sun could. And it enraged the man sitting on the ground beside her with bloody hands.
He screamed into the sky. How did she, a girl with no power, slip through the fingers of someone like him, he demanded. He screamed, and the blue sky gave no answer. The girl's face was still defiant, and her bluer-than-sky eyes still held confidence and pride in them. She was teasing him, the girl was teasing him even in death.
He cut off a strand of her hair and wove it around his own. There. Now he'd always have a peice of her.
He dragged her body to the side of the road. He threw some grass on her lifeless form and left her there, driving off in his shining car.
Days passed by. Her blood soaked into the soil. It rained. The blood on the road got washed into the ditch. A seed broke open next to her head.
Years passed by. Her bones were buried by a farmer's daughter, in the ditch she found them in. The sapling was growing stronger.
Decades passed by, and a dogwood tree grew tall over her final resting place. It had red flowers brighter than the sun.
A few more years passed by. A fifteen-year-old girl hid from her husband in that dogwood tree. She had planned her escape with more information and more help than our original heroine had but, if she didn't have a quick place to hide right then she would've been caught.
More years passed. That girl was grown. She was helping other girls and women escape their forced destinies. The dogwood tree was larger now. It burned brighter than the sun every spring. And for some reason every girl who passed by it felt a sense of hope, of pride.
YOU ARE READING
Runaway
General FictionA young woman is desperate to escape the man she's been yoked to. She's running. Ever since she was born she's been told to follow the rules, to obey the authorities, to do her duty with a sense of honour and gratitude. Ever since she was about elev...
