His Raven

The first time she ran away, they shaved off her hair. Allie sat on the dirty floor, gripping her knees, and surrounded by the ruin of her long black tresses.

It's just hair... It'll grow. Why the pang of loss? It wasn't for the freedom she'd tasted. It's reassuring to be back, even facing punishment. It's scary out there. She'd joined the Community when she was twenty. Curtis was everything she dreamed of: charismatic, handsome, wise. He preached of a utopia, where everyone was equal, free. He dreamed of channeling True Love to heal the outside world. Over time, cracks showed. The Community wasn't paradise, but a place of control and deprivation. Curtis, a charming tyrant. His word was law. Dissent was punished.

He'd worn a look of profound sadness when they shaved her, even though he ordered it. He reached out, as if to touch her hair one last time, then turned away. Didn't even stay. They hacked it roughly, carelessly scoring her scalp. Now, tufty-headed and bleeding, she sobbed. Not for her hair, or her freedom, but for her love, who betrayed her, had maybe never loved her.

He'll never look at me now. Never call me his raven. Nothing to lose, she planned another escape. I'll curry favour. Adoration for him lingered. Even as she tried to squash it, she must wear it on her sleeve, hide behind it...

Weeks of preparation followed. Memorising guard routines, mapping escape routes, squirrelling supplies.

In the dead of night, when the compound was silent and guards complacent, Allie stole out of the dormitory. Already slender when she joined the Community, forced fasting had left her emaciated, weak. Practically her own ghost. Reaching the outer gate, she picked the lock, praying to a god she no longer believed in that no one would spot her. Allie slipped out, heart pounding, eyes scanning the shadows, and then fled into the forest. Blood rushed in her ears. Adrenaline gave her feet wings, at least for a while. Finally, she collapsed against a tree, trembling with exhaustion and fear. I must keep my head, orient myself by the stars till I reach the road. I mustn't get turned around and find myself back there...

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Edited to add author's note:

Word count - 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and authors note.)

Submitted on Thursday 12th September

Author's Note A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This continues my 256 daily microfiction story streak since 1st January. Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day! Rachel Deeming Gerard DiLeo

The story behind the story: I always aim to write these so that you can enjoy them as standalone stories (with varying degrees of success). This one follows on from Like a Raven's Wing. The next one is Raven's Flight.

Thank you

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