The Founder of Freedom – Dead Deer

The Founder of Freedom

The knife slipped from her grasp, as she fought her way out of the metro. A glance at the floor to see it clatter to the ground and bounce around before sinking into an elegantly socked ankle. She pushed harder against the crowd.

A deep breath as she surfaces and she was surprised at how relieved she was to be out. Not looking back she strode purposefully, and gracefully. Before long she has cleared the area.


On the bench she sat at one end, the other occupied by a woman in a pristine dress, the contact. Why did they have to keep changing?

“I want out.”

“You know you can’t get out. We need you. You’re too precious.” A look. “OK I’ll look into it. We’ll start the process, at least.”

A half, uncertain, smile.


ay I wrote  between 22:15 and 22:25. I was prompted by an idea here.

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