I start by cleaning out the car. Once it’s spotless and every inch is free, I go to the house. I pack for the unlikely place. Soon, there is a set of duffel bags filled with thick socks and jumpers, scarves and my heavy coat. I’ve been to the local Tesco and bought them out of cat food. I leave a note for her care and preferences in toys and IAMS cat food.
My passport is missing and I panic until I remember that after my last trip I hid it in a wooden box in my office. Once retrieved, it goes into my handbag along with my wallet, heavy with cash and one credit card. Every other one is shredded and paid off. I owe nothing.
Once the car is loaded, I add a few essentials, a few mementos, a picture frame, some jewellery, a cuddly toy gifted by a friend. The last thing to go in is the one thing that will keep me going. The box is hard to lift, but I wedge my hands beneath it, careful to hold the bottom and lift with my knees. Throwing my back out now would be a bad start. Tennyson, Whitman, Patrick Hamilton, Hardy and Yeats are coming along…
With everything secure, I go to my computer. Every account is deleted. No profile that I can think of remains. My blog, so carefully cultivated over the years vanishes in a puff of ones and zeros. You can still find traces of me here and there, a hint and shadow of what I let the world know about me in my careless hours at online broadcasting.
With a precise and vicious swing, the computer is smashed, full strength against the stone fireplace. I go after it with a brick for good measure. There is nothing left of circuit board and plastic. The screen is dust. I send a message to three people via my phone before it meets a similar fate. I don’t want to worry anyone.
I wander through the house checking each room for any clues and find them. My journals, years of scribbles remain in stacks on the floor of my office. They are easy to despatch. I gather them in my arms like innocents, unaware of the fate that awaits them. In the garden, there is stone planter, just large enough. I place them tenderly inside, soak them with fuel, conveniently close by the barbeque and light a match. I spray more fuel on them to make sure there is no resurrecting them once it’s done.
Everything is ready.
I pick up my drowsy cat and kiss her head again and again until she meows to be put back down. She stretches, purrs into my hand and falls back to sleep. Her food bowel is full and instructions for her are clear. She’ll be fine.
I lock the door, but make sure the cat flap is open before getting in the car.
The key turns and without looking back I pull away from the house, and as I reach each turning, I flip a coin. I’ll keep flipping until I stumble upon a place that brings me peace.
Writing Prompt: What would you do if you wanted to run away?