I felt like I had been walking for eternity. My empty stomach was growling, and my dry throats burned. I was starting to feel faint from dehydration, but I licked my chapped lips and limped on, dragging my iron behind me. I knew that if I stopped to rest, the police would close in on me in an instant, and I would be locked up for the rest of my life for a crime I didn't commit. The ground started to feel squishy between my freezing bare toes as I entered the marsh country. The police would catch me soon if I didn't find a way get rid of the iron keeping me from running away. I came upon a small graveyard with about half a dozen ancient mossy gravestones. In front of one headstone sat a boy crying. He was my one chance to be free, once and for all, and I wasn't taking any chances.
“Keep still, you little devil, or I’ll cut your throat!” The boy whirled around and his eyes grew to the size of the iron attached to my ankle. I asked his name and as he answered I prayed for him to not run away to his parents. My old and weary legs would not be able to keep up with his and that would be the end for me. He whimpered, “Pip,” and began to cry some more and I knew I was in control of the situation. …show more content…
The police would be getting closer with every second I spent talking to Pip. I asked where his mother and father were, hoping they would be gone for they day, leaving an empty house full of food and supplies. “There sir,” he said, pointing at the grave. I continued to interrogate him, sure this child no older than 9 wasn't living on his own. He said he lived with his sister and her husband, the blacksmith. An idea leapt into my mind as I decided I would file away my iron as I had filed away the bars of my cell in prison. I told him to get me a file and some
“Keep still, you little devil, or I’ll cut your throat!” The boy whirled around and his eyes grew to the size of the iron attached to my ankle. I asked his name and as he answered I prayed for him to not run away to his parents. My old and weary legs would not be able to keep up with his and that would be the end for me. He whimpered, “Pip,” and began to cry some more and I knew I was in control of the situation. …show more content…
The police would be getting closer with every second I spent talking to Pip. I asked where his mother and father were, hoping they would be gone for they day, leaving an empty house full of food and supplies. “There sir,” he said, pointing at the grave. I continued to interrogate him, sure this child no older than 9 wasn't living on his own. He said he lived with his sister and her husband, the blacksmith. An idea leapt into my mind as I decided I would file away my iron as I had filed away the bars of my cell in prison. I told him to get me a file and some