Classic Carnation #9
The footprints in the snow suddenly ended. I had planned every detail this moment perfectly. There in that last solitary footprint, I left my legacy. This was my moment. The David Copperfield finale to my humbled existence. In a few short hours I’d be hovering above the Atlantic on my one-way ticket to Paris, London, Prague. Alright, so I admit I didn’t get that detailed in my planning. It was Europe, I would backpack, be fantastic and mysterious, having grand love affairs with sensual European men who would whisper loving lines in my ear and relish me in a string of endless one night stands. Maybe I’d find a job and work my way straight to the top living a high powered executive life in random fancy suites across the continent. I’d concocted many scenarios; I just needed my escape.
There was blood trailing alongside the footprints I’d so carefully planted in the snow. My blood, a deep crimson shining against the sparkle of pure white snow in moonlight. Following the trail of footprints and blood one would find torn items of my favorite clothing. It looked sloppy and hurried. It was perfect. I wanted to take a picture, paint a portrait. The last moments of Natalie Stockton; the beginning of Miss Indigo DeBrille. I kept my gaze fixed on the sight, imprinting it into my mind as I changed into the shoes I’d made out of a cheap pair of men’s tennis shoes from Wal-Mart and sewn backwards onto the bottom of another cheap pair of shoes that actually fit. I tossed my old pair of shoes haphazardly next to the last sign of my livelihood and ran crazily past the footprints I’d so carefully crafted before.
There was an adrenaline rush as I put the final touches on my scene of chaos. Here I painted the footsteps of the madman who’d abducted me, taken me into the woods and I disappeared. That’s how I’d hoped the police report would read. I thought of the friends I’d leave behind. But it was easier to fake a kidnapping than hurt them by simply leaving them all behind with no trace. They were the only real family I had left. Without family, the police don’t have much of a reason to look for someone who’s been kidnapped. They’d get over it eventually, and finally, they’d forget the traces of that girl named Natalie with mouse brown eyes and a quiet smile.
The end of the line and I called for a cab to take me to the airport. I tossed in my backpack (I’d throw away my backwards shoes at the airport) and never looked back.
There was blood trailing alongside the footprints I’d so carefully planted in the snow. My blood, a deep crimson shining against the sparkle of pure white snow in moonlight. Following the trail of footprints and blood one would find torn items of my favorite clothing. It looked sloppy and hurried. It was perfect. I wanted to take a picture, paint a portrait. The last moments of Natalie Stockton; the beginning of Miss Indigo DeBrille. I kept my gaze fixed on the sight, imprinting it into my mind as I changed into the shoes I’d made out of a cheap pair of men’s tennis shoes from Wal-Mart and sewn backwards onto the bottom of another cheap pair of shoes that actually fit. I tossed my old pair of shoes haphazardly next to the last sign of my livelihood and ran crazily past the footprints I’d so carefully crafted before.
There was an adrenaline rush as I put the final touches on my scene of chaos. Here I painted the footsteps of the madman who’d abducted me, taken me into the woods and I disappeared. That’s how I’d hoped the police report would read. I thought of the friends I’d leave behind. But it was easier to fake a kidnapping than hurt them by simply leaving them all behind with no trace. They were the only real family I had left. Without family, the police don’t have much of a reason to look for someone who’s been kidnapped. They’d get over it eventually, and finally, they’d forget the traces of that girl named Natalie with mouse brown eyes and a quiet smile.
The end of the line and I called for a cab to take me to the airport. I tossed in my backpack (I’d throw away my backwards shoes at the airport) and never looked back.
posted by Anonymous at 10:37 AM
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