There would be no escape.
That was it then. She’d gotten turned around somehow. Night clawed at her bare legs, ripped through her thin, cotton gown.
She’d never been afraid of the dark but, tonight, it had teeth. It chewed her psyche, swallowed her hope of leaving this place.
A spot of light caught her eye. The beam from a flashlight bobbed just beyond the gate. A hand stuck through the bars, dangling keys from its fingertips.
She ran to the light, laughing.
They’d catch her and she’d be back here but no matter. First, she’d have her revenge.
January 21, prompt: Clichés – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that rephrases: “light at the end of the tunnel”.