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girl with bag



How many times had she thought about it? Enough to be curious, obviously. She had seen it so many times on tv. Shows about people who had mysteriously vanished from their homes… No sign of kidnapping, no apparent reason for leaving their life behind. No clues as to where they would have gone.

She understood how that was possible a hundred years back. She had read enough stories about men, turning their back on a painful past, and popping up in some village, wrapped in a veil of mystery, wearing a name they had picked for themselves on the train, or while riding their horse in the last of sunset rays…

But nowadays? It seemed impossible. She felt tagged, as if her identity had been inked into her skin the minute she had been born. All these numbers, stiched to her very being, allowed to keep a safe eye on her. Her phone, her license plate, her bank account numbers, her ATM and credit cards, her passport… How could she get away, without leaving a trace?

The enigma had become a challenge over the months. In secret, she had plotted the perfect escape. She had slowly, but surely withdrawn all her savings, and packed the cash money in her small suitcase, with just the necessary to get by. She had planned, and thought things over, and over and over. Turning and returning every detail.

It certainly wouldn’t be the “how” that would keep authorities on their toes. It would be the “why”.Β  Good little soldiers like her, having lived by the rules and straight like an arrow, didn’t just desert one day. She wasn’t unhappy with her life, which would be a total puzzle for people looking for her.


“She must have done something.” would certainly be their best guess. The idea that she had just left, for the heck of it would always float around their heads, but it would be so surreal, that they wouldn’t stick to it. There were only two good reasons for going missing in this world; needing help, or being guilty ofΒ something.

Think again, World.

They would certainly go looking for her, eventually. But she had a serious head start.

She had no reason to leave, and that would serve her well.

Locking the door to her apartment, she glanced one last time at her old life.

My mother’s name was Liberty, and Dad’s, Adventure… From now on, you can call me Runaway!

But there was no one to witness her last words, before she trotted down the street.

17 thoughts on “Gone…

      1. πŸ™‚ There might be a follow up on her wanderings, no promise though, hehehe. I’ll make sure to let you know if I write something related… xx

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Meg πŸ™‚ I have wondered, number of times, if I’d be game to do it… And I think I’d be tempted, if I was still living by myself πŸ˜‰ I know I could totally move to another country almost overnight, but ChΓ©ri wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Exactly… I lived in Africa for 5 years, I am comfortable with the fact of being far from my family. He would miss his way too much… But it won’t stop me from traveling πŸ˜‰ hehehehe and making some of the characters in my head runaway, occasionally πŸ˜›

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you πŸ™‚ As I told Meg, I might work on a second part, but I am not making promises… I have ideas, but I lack time to write like I’d like to, these days… :/


  1. well done, we’ve just had a woman with two young daughters hiding out here in oz for four years. Managed to get new identities, cash, free accommodation, etc by claiming the father had sexually abused his girls … but they was no proof and they were in tact … so it is possible. Shame it’s not so effective for those trying to escape domestic violence!


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