As the veils of darkness fell, John ran. Past the houses covered in snow, he ran. Past the old station, a childhood playground. Over the hedges of Mr Darny. Into the closet, John ran. He was tired, drained. His body heaved with fatigue. His only thought: What now? Time seemed to have forgotten him in this town. The people had changed, the words too. But John was still John. He fumbled in his pocket for a lighter. His eyes blinked at the sudden light. Inside the closet was a small hole. He stuck his finger in, and turned. Twice right. Once left. Click. A creaking resounded and he was suddenly free-falling. No support underneath, nothing held his weight. John, however, was calm. All around him, it was iron-dark. John, however, smiled white. No, he thought, no time to be happy. I may have escaped today, but next week? Will I make it then? He checked his backpack. There was food enough for a week. A little longer if they rationed themselves. Still, eventually, he would have to get more. That meant going out again. That meant risking everything again.
He landed in a small room lit by torches. Shadows on the wall danced, he found it creepy. Down a hall, John walked. Past a wooden door, John walked. Past a metal door, where the prisoner slept, John walked. John halted. Gripped by a sudden fear, he cast eyes over the metal door. He gripped the handle and pulled. It swung open in one unfettered movement. John entered and scanned the room. The cell was empty, save for the leaking they’d never found the source of. Where was the prisoner? Then, John heard the door close. Now, John was the prisoner.