My Mocassins

There was no backing out now, the lift had been arranged, and Libby just had to make sure she made it. The consequences of being found fleeing were just not an option. That evening her father and sister went out together as they often did to the local telephone kiosk. Libby was left on her own again in a locked house. she crept up to her father’s room and looked for the back-door key. She found it on his desk, took it, unlocked the back the door and returned the key to its place on the desk. She knew that the back door was only used very rarely, so it being unlocked would not be noticed or checked. Quickly calculating what she needed to take with her she put some things in a bag and left the bag by the back door. She was nervous, and knew the risk of being found out. The focus had to be on making absolutely sure that she would leave, and that the plan would become a reality. She managed to carry out the first part of her plan, while the others were still away. Relieved but nervous Libby gathered together what strength she had left for the rest of her plan. She remembered that her father had stated that in God's way, everything that she owned he owned, because he owned her. So she knew that everything left at the house that night she would never be able to claim as hers ever again. This was part of the price she knew she had to pay. She did not have much, but when you do not have much, what you have is all the more precious. Hypocritically she went through the motions of family worship that evening. After listening to make sure that both father and sister were asleep, Libby dressed putting on two or three of everything. She could only take what she could wear. The ever memorable journey began as she went out of her room and started down the creaking stairs. She wondered if God would be favourable to her and make it a windy night, because if it was windy, the creaky stairs faded into the orchestra of creaky sounds all over the house. But no, it was a quiet night, so - - Every millimetre of the bedroom door creaked as it opened. Libby opened it very, very slowly, trying to avoid all the creaking. She held her breath. “Got through that stage alright”. She thought with trepidation that now was the crucial time. If she was found to be out of bed dressed at that time of night, all would be given away and that would be the end of Libby. Proceeding to go down the stairs with every single step creaking., she landed on the part of the stair that she thought would creak the least. She held her breath. She was in a very vulnerable position. If she had been seen dressed as she was in the middle of the night she could hardly claim she was just going to the toilet! Every creak sounded like a trumpet-blast to Libby who stepped very slowly indeed. Was her father awake reading quietly and able to go down to the toilet any time, or was he sleeping soundly? she went so slowly, so quietly. Eventually she got to the bottom of the stairs! “Good, that’s over” she said to herself. Then came the worst part of all. Libby braced herself for what could be the giving away of her whole plan. The door leading to the back of the house which she had to go through, was the most creaky, unpredictable and loud sound in the whole house. The sound was unmistakable. That sound could wake either her father or sister by itself and they would know immediately where the noise was from. They would immediately know that whatever needed to be done in the night – toilet or drink in the kitchen, there was nothing that required going through that squeaky door to the unused part of the house. But to get out Libby had to go through. It was stay now and forever or go. This was the only route out. Slowly, so slowly she turned the handle bit by bit, leaving moments between each slight turn so that, if anyone did hear the creaking, it would be an isolated sound. Bit by tiny bit she moved the handle enough to open the door a tiny bit – creak. She knew this would take a lot of patience – patience in a very stressful situation was the only option. she had to keep control and calm. She could not panic. She kept telling herself “I have only to get through this door and I’m out”. Every fibre of her being was concentrating on getting this door to creak as little as possible. Finally the door was open enough for her to go through, but now she had to close it in exactly the same way it had been opened! In many ways closing it was easier for her, as she was closer to her goal. Finally the door was closed and with a tremendous sigh of relief, Libby walked through the passage to the back door and out! It had taken her a full two hours to make the journey from her bedroom to the back door.