Your Sense of Adventure

So Writer's Digest had an interesting writing prompt awhile back but I never got a chance to do anything with it until about an hour ago. When I was finished, I was pretty happy with what I had, but it's about 100 words too long to be submitted and it's probably too late to submit it now anyway. But I couldn't stand the thought of just letting it sit there on my hard drive. Then I thought "Hey, wait a minute! I have a blog! What else is a blog for if not posting stuff that I'm proud of that no one else cares about?" So, here it is, my vignette:

Your Sense of Adventure

A friend rings your doorbell way too early in the morning to be ringing doorbells. You answer the door in your PJs, and the friend says, “Pack a bag quickly. I have to get out of here now and need you to come with me.” You are intrigued.

            Instantly awake, you say, “Okay. Give me a minute.”

Obviously it takes you more than a minute. Your friend waits at your bedroom door, impatiently tapping her toe and constantly checking the door and the windows as you hastily throw anything and everything you might need into an overnight bag.

“Ready?” She asks as soon as you zip up the bag.

“Ready. Where are we going?”

            “West. As far away from here as we can get and as fast as we can get there.”

            You think fleetingly of the school, your students. You’ll miss them. But will they miss you? After all, they’re only third-graders. Once the school realizes you’re not coming in, the class will be assigned a substitute teacher. Some poor substitute who will now have a permanent, full-time job. You silently wish the unknown teacher all the best as you gladly throw away your job, your career, everything you have, and head to the garage with your friend on your heels.

            The Honda does not exactly have a reputation for making a great get-away vehicle, but it’ll have to do. As your friend heads towards the car you turn and start to lock the door behind you before asking yourself “Why bother?” You can’t come back. Whatever your friend is running from, it’s dangerous and, if it’s got her this freaked, she can’t ever return. You deciding to join her means you can’t ever return. With a shrug, you turn from your unlocked door and hop in the driver’s seat, your stomach doing massive back-flips as you turn the key in the ignition.

            Tires screech against pavement as you back out of your garage and head down the driveway, away from your beautiful townhouse.

            Behind you, the sun is rising. You feel as if you are running away from it. This feeling is enhanced by the way your friend continues to glance over her shoulder. Every car you encounter on the road makes her flinch.

            You get on the nearest ramp to get on the high way and continue heading west. The sun is already fully risen and well on its way upward by the time your friend starts giving you directions. You have no plan so, if she has one, you might as well follow it – this being her escape and all.

            By the time she tells you to get off the highway you realize you recognize this place. You’ve been here before. Frantically, you search your memory but your mind and body are still too full of the excitement of the moment to try and worry about the past.

            Then, as she instructs you to turn left onto a dirt road, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, you remember the last time you were here. You start to slow down as you wonder just what, exactly, is going on here?

            “Sheila? When have you ever been here?”

            Sheila turns to you with a sheepish grin as she admits that the game is up.

            You reach the old, familiar cabin, with that familiar figure standing on the front porch, holding his mug of coffee. You slam on the brakes and stop in the middle of the road.

            “I’m sorry, but you never would have agreed to do this, so I had to, well, appeal to your sense of adventure.”

            “Oh, you are so dead.”