As I snuck away in the wee hours of the morning, I wondered if anyone would ever know what really happened.

After years of keeping the secrets of that wretched house to myself, no one will hear it from me. All I care about now is getting as far away as possible, and as quickly as I can.

They didn’t see me go, thank God. When the men get together, they never see me. It’s like the beers and the chips miraculously appear before the greedy slugs. I’m invisible. I used to resent it, but now I see it for what it is: a gift.

They were always smugglers. They talked up their newest big game like I couldn’t hear their plans. They set up their stockpiles in the sheds out back like I couldn’t see the pickups backing in and the goods being off-loaded.

If they’d asked, I could have told them the internet address could be traced. I probably wouldn’t have, but I could have. No, it was more interesting to sit back and wait for the onslaught.

I knew they’d come. They have guns. So do Wiley and his men. They’re duking it out over soap and toilet paper.

I slipped out through the closet’s trapdoor, into the cellar and out the bulkhead doors that Wiley usually keeps padlocked.  I relocked them once I was out. No escape there, guys.

They never noticed the few items I took from the sheds and stashed in my little rowboat. Fishing was never their thing; the boat is as invisible as I am. I have my pole, bait and tackle. I have cooking gear; food; clothes, blankets and a little tent. Soap and toilet paper.


The world is closed, but the forest can be mine for now. I’ll survive.


Author’s Note: Once again, inspiration from a prompt from Writers Unite! 



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