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Indie Rose


In the middle of nowhere, there was a wheat field. In that field, there was a blue scooter, and on that scooter was a girl. She had come from another nowhere town, and was exploring. She had stopped to take out her phone and check for directions to the next town over.

You see, the girl was a runaway. She had left her home, her friends and family and just gone with it. She got a baby blue scooter and ran away, taking only food, cash and clothes.

She looked up, trying to see how high the sun was to try and figure out how long she had until nightfall, but the sky was obscured by cloud. Shrugging, she once again started the engine and drove on, keeping to the small track in the field. It had been a long while since she had driven on a road, and wasn’t keen to see one again.

Whilst she was driving, she started to recall things from before her journey. Like how she was the corporate heir to a multi-million company. And she hated it. All “you have to ear this” and “smile for the camera!” It was all fake. Only when she was out here did she truly feel free. And that was the part she loved.

She sped up, her short blonde hair streaming out behind her in loose waves. The feeling of wind in her face. The wheatsheaf’s brushing her legs as she zoomed past. The only thing that could complete this was… sunlight.

And there it was. The clouds parted above her and let a sliver of blue sky through, widening until the heavens were a glorious teal, bathing the earth in light and turning the strands of wheat around her golden. She laughed, and stopped once more, looking up as a small flock of white birds dived and swooped around her, before climbing up once again into the sky.

She kept driving, and after a few more hours came to a small town with an inn. As she entered, she shook back her windswept hair and brushed down her skirt, removing her Aviator knock-offs from her face. She looked around. It was a nice little town, but it was too quaint for her. She walked up to the desk and rang a small bell, calling a kindly looking woman to the front of the waiting room. After conversing for a while and getting a room, the woman asked her name. “It’s so we know who to talk to for billing reasons and the like.”
The girl smiled. “Oh, alright then.” She laughed, and stuck out her hand. “I’m India Rose, though, to be honest, most just call me Indie.” The woman shook it. “Well, Miss Rose, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”


This is how it went in most towns. Drive, find a place to sleep, refuel, buy food and sometimes more clothes, drive, repeat, repeat, repeat. But anything was better than her old life. Better than being Miss India Rose, heir to The Rose Building Corp, restricted by rules and regulations, stuffy banquets and tradition. So much better. Because now, she was Indie Rose. Just Indie. And she could do as she pleased.