Have at it collaborators! :)
Is the total 600 words or less, or 150 words or less? This is about 450 words...but it can be pared down and broken up too.
She tiptoes to the corner, careful and quick, quick and careful, sly as a trick played on a fool. One tiny foot hardly plants itself on the concrete before the other passes it by in the extra-dark below a splintered bridge. The shadows hug her features, inscrutable. To a passer-by she would seem a fly on the wall, invisible and inconsequential. But, there is no passer-by, so she will not be cautioned to button her coat like a good little girl. She will not be told the hour is late, that she should be home, snuggled under fluff and frills and silence. She would only blink her eyes three times, and fly to the next lamppost, the next tree, the next sneaky advance, with cricket-music vibrating in her ears.
Her left shifted eyes shift right, peeking over a plant, around a drinking fountain. The shallow breath from the tongue-wetted corners of her mouth does not disturb the sleeping trees. Their roots will play no tricks against her nimble toes this night. Their leaves will not whisper her intentions to the dark.
She darts, dances, detours like a thread through the holes of a button. Quick and careful, careful and quick, her eyes alight on the target. Over the grass, beyond a low wall, a window is open to the breeze.
Now she leaps. She defies gravity and clings to it again, a crouching rock, and then a lithe gazelle. She is across the grass, around a decorative plant, over the low wall. Her unblinking eyes do not shift leftward or rightward anymore. They look brazenly into the half-opened window. There, clutched in the arms of a sleeping boy, is her singular goal. He sighs. She grits her teeth and moves a stray hair from her face. Her stolen teddy bear, face a mask of desperation, reaches out to her across the room.
Like smoke her small frame slips beneath the glass. The carpet is soft and dampens the small house-warnings of her entrance. Closer, she creeps. Her breath quickens with the effort of waiting for the right moment to snatch her friend away to safety. Closer…
But she is betrayed. The moon moves from behind an assistive cloud and finds her in the dark. It can’t resist a shimmer on the tilted line of her straining neck a momentary flash on her hair. The boy awakens to nothing but the impression of a glowing bird alighting from his window.
Her tiny feet fly away. Back, back, over the low wall, under the extra-dark bridge, past the plant and the drinking fountain, her fingers tap her palms in the rhythm of her escape. She has lost the chase tonight, but she will not lose again.
Created: Apr 02, 2010Document Media