FICTION|ADVENTURE|SCI-FI
Gone Rogue — Prelude
88 of 💯 — The capturing of innocence.
I had written Gone Rogue in response to Zane Dickens’ Writing Challenge: Villains to Vanquish. Since doing so, I have wanted to elaborate on Xoey’s character — beginning with her, well — beginning, and continuing past her escape. Enjoy the ride.
The slender, young woman sat at the antique, scratched-up desk — her long, chocolate brown hair spilled over her shoulders. She gently bit her lower lip as she stared at several past-due bills, weighing the consequences of not paying them — again.
As yet another sigh escaped her lips, she glanced over her shoulder at her two-year-old daughter playing peacefully on the faded rug with her favorite, worn doll.
Staring at her daughter, cherished — but painful — memories flitted through her vision. She could still hear his vows to love, honor, and cherish her without end. She could still feel his warm lips on hers after they said “I do” and every time after — could still feel his strong hands surrounding hers as they prayed for their growing family.
She could still see the doctor’s solemn face as his gaze bore into her soul before telling her they lost her husband in surgery after the car accident.
Wiping her wet cheeks, she turned her attention back to the pile of bills. Making minimum payments on two of them, she placed the rest in a stack for another time.
With a silent prayer, she grabbed the day-old newspaper and flipped to the employment section. Her heart sank a little more with each entry she read — each listing she was unqualified for.
Glancing again at her daughter, she pushed back from the stress laden desk and strode to the coat rack in the hallway. She tossed the newspaper on the simple table holding her keys.
Her daughter’s tiny hand held onto the white door casing as Xoey’s large, almost black eyes followed her mother’s graceful movements as she removed her jacket from the coat hook. “Mama, I go too?”
The young woman glanced lovingly down at her daughter, “Of course, Xoey. I wouldn’t go anywhere without my favorite girl!” Xoey jumped up and down, her black curls jumping with her. “Go get your sweater and we’ll leave.”
The woman smiled as she watched the toddler pump her arms before darting off to retrieve her sweater.
In moments, Xoey flew around the corner, her aqua sweater flying like a kite in her wake. Her mother slid her arms into her jacket before bending on one knee to help her struggling daughter get her own arms in the sweater sleeves.
“Ready?”
Xoey’s tiny hands gently clasped her mother’s cheeks and with utmost sincerity, “No, Mama. I can’t leave dolly.”
“Go get her.” Her mother smiled as Xoey ran to her most cherished toy. Since giving the doll to her more than a year ago for her birthday, she never left her precious doll behind.
Xoey skipped back into the room hugging her doll, “Ready, Mama!”
The woman hung her purse on her shoulder then picked up the child who stood on tip toes with her arms raised.
Holding the doll near to her heart, Xoey rested her chin on her mother’s shoulder as they walked the few steps to the snow-white door. As her mother opened the door, the morning light flooded the small hallway.
Xoey’s eyes rested on the photos of the newspaper’s front page — five missing children’s photos ranging from two to six years old.
Then the door closed behind them — extinguishing the illumination, and the thought of the children.
Xoey walked hand in hand with her mother through the bustling marketplace as her small sandaled feet lightly tapped the pavement in quick succession to her mother’s long strides. She almost melded with her mother’s leg amidst the throngs of people walking in all directions and darting in front of them.
“Stay close, Xoey and don’t leave my side.”
Xoey nodded, “Yes, Mama.” Her curls nodded in agreement as her dark eyes, like saucers, darted among the people.
A burly man in a navy suit bumped into them — nearly separating the pair.
Xoey clung to her mother’s hand and skirt as she walked closely behind her to prevent being run over.
They stopped at a vendor’s stall as her mother chose several potatoes, carrots, and a few ripe bananas.
Xoey’s eyes were drawn to the colorful fruits and vegetables displayed on wooden carts, the brightly colored dresses, shirts, and silk scarves hung on makeshift racks, and jewelry that sparkled brilliantly in the morning rays of light.
Her eyes wide and lips parted in wonder, she looked from one brightly colored object to the next, mesmerized by the vibrancy of the world outside their home.
Hearing a whimper, Xoey’s eyes fell to a form huddling in a corner under the produce cart. She took a step towards the furry creature, still clutching her mother’s skirt.
“Puppy,” she whispered, as the small, black and brown dog turned adorable, captivating eyes her way.
Her mother glanced at her daughter watching the dog, as the price of their produce was being calculated before turner her attention back to the vendor.
Xoey took another step towards the dog, her tiny hand outstretched to touch its scruffy fur. The pup licked her fingers as a smile exploded on the child’s face.
Entranced by the friendly pup, Xoey released her mother’s skirt.
Her delicate fingers caressed the pup as it profusely kissed her face, thoroughly enjoying the child’s attention. Light-hearted giggles erupted as she set dolly down and hugged the puppy. Burying her face in it’s matted fur, she felt the dog scramble from her arms at the sound of a whistle.
“Puppy!” Xoey scrambled to her feet and darted after the small dog, weaving around people’s legs as she strained to keep up with the quick animal.
Her mother grabbed the bag of groceries from the vendor, “Let’s head home, Xoey.” As her mother glanced down to where her daughter stood watching the small dog. Only Xoey’s doll looked back at her.
Fear burned like a wild fire as her eyes darted about, “Xoey?”
The mass of people continued on their paths, not even casting a glance of acknowledgement her way, as her pleas were broadcast on deaf ears.
Dread clawed its way up from the pit of her stomach and consumed her as she called again and again, for her daughter. Panic released it’s tendrils in her mind as she clutched the doll to her chest, screaming herself hoarse, “Xoey! Xoey, where are you?!”
Next: The capturing of innocence.
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Inspired by Zane Dickens’💯 Story Challenge.