Imogene’s Flight

OLWG #1 – The prompts are:

  1. Miss Wilson did her best to hush the class
  2. But that’s not what it said
  3. The cool breeze blew in the back of her hospital gown


Imogene risked a look over her shoulder as she scurried down the street, the pavement cold on her bare feet; her eyes were wild and her shock of curly blue hair untamed, manic. A cool breeze blew in the back of her hospital gown. The gown that she could not hold closed and continue to move as quickly as she felt she needed to.  She needed to look like she did this every day. She needed to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary, she needed to blend in; but she was clipping down the street wearing nothing but a pastel blue hospital garment that was tied only at her neck in the back.

How do you make that look normal?”

She thought that she had been lucky to get away from the infirmary at all. She had heard them coming and moved when they began whispering outside her door. She hid behind it; and when they came in, with weapons drawn, she had managed to slip out the door, unseen, and down the passageway to the exit stairs.

Now she was on the boulevard, moving towards 32nd Street, against the flow of pedestrian commuters emerging from the subway exits. Her attire assured that she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She had to get inside. She had to find clothes. She didn’t have much time before they would be on her again so; she ducked down a narrow alleyway and through the open kitchen door of a diner. Could she find clothes here?

“Probably not,” She thought to herself, “but at least it gets me off the street, out of the open.”

Someone was coming from the front and making no attempt at stealth, Imogene picked up a knife from the prep counter and crouched low. The knife was a prop, she wouldn’t be able to use it and she knew this, but if she could scare someone enough to give her their clothes? Well?…

Five minutes later, wearing an ill-fitting black suit and a white button down shirt she left the diner. She still had no underwear, but that was a little less obvious now. She tugged a purloined watch cap down to cover her unruly hair. She was still barefoot and stood out, but maybe not as much as she had before.

“The waterfront,” she thought to herself, “that was where this all began. I need to go back there if I ever want my life back.” She took a left on Ocean Street and turned up her collar.


Time’s up – 27 minutes (I cheated to get that last short paragraph in). No editing – this is raw and not very pretty. It could be the germ of an idea that I might develop later though.

 

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