Ellie often ran away from the children’s home. Her freedom was always short lived, but the sense of control and adrenalin always lasted. Besides, there was always the hope that she wouldn’t be found.
Sometimes it took the matrons only a few hours to find her, sometimes a few days. It didn’t matter to Ellie. Finding new and different ways to escape filled the endless hours of which she had nothing else to fill them with.
That same night, after the girl had gone and after Ellie had woken in her sleep for the fifth time, tossing and turning with frustration, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got out. Her frustration was nameless, it had no reason. Ellie thought the fact that the girl was late was of no importance to her. But it bothered her more than she realised.
Ellie knelt and silently opened one of the drawers under her bed. She pulled out a t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Taking them to the bathroom along the corridor, she changed quickly. She didn’t dare turn a light on. A familiar thrill of excitement ran through her and she grinned. Maybe this time they wouldn’t catch her.
Then, grabbing her sneakers from under the coat stand in the hall, she wrenched them on and opened the front door to the outside world.
Thankfully the door didn’t make a sound and Ellie slipped out undetected. She jogged down the garden path and vaulted over the fence. Once free, she broke into a run. But her gait was nowhere near as smooth as the girl’s.
Ellie passed dead fields of mobile homes, enjoying the air on her face. She reached the town centre in less than two minutes, where hoards of crowded, red brick buildings towered above her. The town centre was riddled with alleyways and hiding places. Unfortunately those alleyways and hiding places were strewn with crime and dingy basements, but even the drug barons working in the flats above the police station were well accustomed to her wanderings.
Now though, she headed for her favourite hiding place and a little smile crept onto her face. The last time she’d been here was a week ago. She hurried down the dry streets, racing the red moon, lithely dodging roving street-cams.
The alley she’d picked was a cul-de-sac of sorts, fenced by a pair of ten storey Victorian style red brick buildings. She assumed they were offices. Most of the town centre’s buildings were little more than that. The dead end was marked by a large red wall, the colour of the bloody moon. If you were to climb to the top, all you’d find was a three-foot drop onto a parking lot.
Ellie stopped running and slowed to a walk. Then she slowed to a stop, her heart thudding wildly. Whether it was from exertion or sudden dread, she couldn’t tell. Someone was there, standing by the place she slept while the matrons raised the alarm.
The figure was shrouded in a dark cloak, the hood shadowing his face. All Ellie could see was a nose and a mouth and a mess of shaggy hair that reached the figure’s rounded jawbone.
‘What are you doing here?’ Ellie called out as she approached the figure guardedly. ‘This is my alley.’
The figure turned to her, but offered no sign that he’d seen her.
‘Your alley?’ he asked in surprise. ‘This is my alley.’
‘No it’s not,’ Ellie argued back. At being challenged so casually, Ellie’s confidence came roaring back into life. ‘I’ve never seen you here before.’
‘Well, I haven’t ever seen you here either. Go away,’ he said in annoyance. ‘My alleyway.’
‘I come here at least once a week,’ Ellie said.
‘I’m here everyday. I’ve never seen you here before.’
Ellie didn’t say anything for a while, as she frowned thought about the stranger’s untruths.
‘You have the ears of a cat,’ the figure finally noted. Ellie retreated into herself suddenly, stroking her cat ears self-consciously. She nodded slowly, wondering cautiously about the figure’s sudden change of tact.
‘Tortoiseshell,’ the figure continued. Ellie nodded again, taking her hand away. ‘Where did you get them?’ Ellie just stared. She’d had the ears of a cat ever since she could remember. They poked out through the folds of her hair, but she was unable to conceal them. She wondered what the stranger meant; did he not think they were real?
‘My ears are real,’ Ellie explained. The conversation was becoming far too unpredictable for her liking.
‘Yes, I know,’ the figure said impatiently. ‘I would like to know what side of the family they came from.’ Ellie noticed that the figure had taken a step forward. Ellie slithered backwards, only to find that the stranger was matching her paces. The figure sent bad chills racing down her spine, despite his obvious efforts to be chivalrous. She didn’t even wonder how he could see her under the low hood.
‘Why do you want to know?’ Ellie asked, taking another step back. The figure didn’t reply, but yet again matched her steps.
‘Can we share the alley?’ she ventured, changing tact, wondering whether the strange figure would respond.
‘No,’ came the immediate answer.
‘Who are you?’ Ellie asked at length.
‘My name is Bunce,’ said Bunce.
‘That’s a weird name.’
‘Not where I come from.’
‘And where do you come from?’
‘That’s enough questions,’ Bunce said suddenly. An arm snaked out from under his dark cloak, an arm with skin as pale as the moon used to be. So pale, it was almost blue. ‘If you won’t answer my questions, then go.’ The arm pointed to the entrance to the alley.
‘No,’ Ellie said defiantly. She felt as if her refuge had been taken from her. She stalked off a little and found that the figure didn’t follow her. She went to the entrance to the alley, to a familiar basement door that she often used. She went down the three little steps and knocked sharply on the door. While she waited, she saw Bunce turn to face at her. The door opened and Ellie dived in.
It's review day today and your story will be my fifth review. Exciting, isn't it? (Nope, not really.) So I am going to go headlong into this and start with the critique and end on a lighter note. So in other words: what I thought could be fixed and then end with what I liked. Alright, let us go!!
