A Clean Escape

A Flash Fiction Contest Entry, trying to keep the writing cogs turning.

A Clean Escape (300 Words)

Stan spent the morning making a lock-pick from a piece of brick he’d broken free from the wall of his cell. He was just about done when the sun peeked in through the window. He got to work right away, listening out for the guards.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was innocent… ish. In a moment of desperation, after not eating for a week, he’d stolen an apple — yes, just one — unaware of the guard standing behind him. You steal one apple and get a week in the dungeons — you had to laugh.

Stan knew the guards would be on lunch for an hour, which gave him time to go slowly, to avoid snapping the lock-pick.

His ears pricked at the sound of jingling keys coming up the hallway. Typical, he thought — of all the days for a guard to go hungry, it had to be today.

Some people thrive under pressure. Stan wasn’t one of them. His fingers began fumbling all over the place and he dropped the lock-pick, kicking it under the cell door and into the hallway. Lovely.

If the guard sees my lock-pick, I’ll be locked away for years!

Thinking fast, he took off a slipper and used it to sweep the lock-pick within reach. He went back to the keyhole with doubled determination.

In the blink of an eye, the door swung open, and Stan pounced out, coming face to face with… the cleaning trolley — That explained the jingling.

While the cleaner was busy dusting an empty cell, Stan took the opportunity to hide under the trolley, which was a bit of a squeeze. Soon, he was being wheeled through the dungeon towards freedom.

The cleaner felt confused about the sudden weight of the trolley — and the fact that it was now sniggering.