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Wingiby Iggiby replied to the topic Character Castle 2.0 in the forum Fantasy Writers 5 years, 4 months ago
DANCROW CART
“Good for you. Nice music. How’d it get in there?”
I turned to look at Miss Snoot; she was sitting against the wall with her wounded leg stretched out in front of her, and I noticed that it was starting to bleed again. My forehead creased slightly and I sighed, suddenly feeling really stupid. Stupid about my glee.
What a hero I am.
But, despite myself, I had another hot bubble of anger rising in my throat at the thought of her insults. But just get over it already. 95% of the people I meet chuckle or sneer at my name. I just keep my cool. And I’ve learned that if you’re going to be a leader, if you want to be successful, you’ve got to let some things go. You’ve got to forgive. And she looks like she needs help with the leg.
Just then the others clumped through the door, and Miss Snoot said — in a loud voice — “Yeah, I know. Gavril’s a pretentious, overly-polite idiot. You learn to ignore it after a while.”
“I heard that!” Her brother stepped through the door with a dismal look on his face.
“You were supposed to,” she answered smugly, and I couldn’t suppress a grin. I walked over to Gavril and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Y’know, Gav, ya learn to ignore ‘er after a while,” I said encouragingly.
Then the armored man came in, and I stopped and stared. Whoa. I just restrained myself from reaching out to touch his shiny smooth armor. I wondered if a bullet could penetrate it, and I couldn’t help but to feel a little uneasy.
“Okay, I think that’s everyone–” Gavril started to say, but then the door slammed shut and the room went as dark as the inside of an old boot. I gave a gasp and nearly jumped out of my own. Miss Snoot got stiffly to her feet and stood next to Gavril. Liorah! That’s right. Her name clicked into my head just as a light clicked on across the room, shining on the door we had yet to enter.
Then, a voice like a hoarse robot reverberated off of the dark walls. It sounded like it came from both inside me and out. It bounced around in my soul like a rubber ball inside a room. It thundered in my chest. The voice seemed to come right out of my radio as well, and I nearly dropped it from my shaky hands. As the voice continued to grow and fade in my ears, I jerked out my revolver and pointed it at the door, my hands continuing to tremble. What is this? What is it? What is going on again?
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, and those who have intruded upon mine final days of rest shall feel the crushing of my wrath until they are reduced to mere piles of bleached bones, like all who have–”
The voice was evil sounding, like something out of a nightmare, but there was something comical about it, like it was joking. I snorted despite myself, though I could feel my knees wobbling a tiny bit. Give me Vergs, give me rabid dogs, give me a body-builder-bully, but give me this? I don’t know what is going on. And that is the worst part of it. I don’t understand.
“You know, that’s really dramatic and all, but we don’t have all day. Summarize the death threats and get to the point,” Liorah said sardonically. I couldn’t help but admire her apparent courage, but if she is anything like me, it is just a wall to hide behind. Like this idiotic grin I am wearing.
The chilling voice went silent, but I still trained my gun on the door, my pointer finger tense on the trigger. Push slightly with your right hand and pull slightly with your left to brace it. Pull back on the trigger softly. Don’t jerk. Aim. Get ready to fire.
The owner of the voice must be behind the door. He must have some elaborate sound system up. And by what he sounded like next, he must have been faking the creepy voice. I knew it. And I was very offended by his drawl. It sounded like he was mocking me; the kids in Fancho laughed outright at my country accent. Now this.
“Ya know, you might have an idea there.” I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth, trying to steady my wavering aim.
“‘Kay, here’s the thing: Only half of y’all are getting out of this room alive. I’ll leave it up to y’all to figure out who dies. Just hurry, you have one hour before the staircase loosens and y’all plummet into the chasm. Ya won’t survive the drop, so I’d pick out half as quick as you can. As soon as you give me a list of names of them who die, the others can leave. Have fun! Oh, and if there’s an uneven number of y’all, half plus one die. Life ain’t fair.”
I was speechless. My mouth went dry. The voice still rang in my ears. What? What did he just say? No, that isn’t possible. It isn’t. I can’t die yet. I can’t die yet. I’m not ready. I’ve still got so much life ahead of me. So much promise. So much to do. I can’t die yet. Not that way, not that way.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Liorah’s boot hit the wall and bounce off.
All of these others. They have to die too? No, only half of them. Only half.
I gave an involuntary shiver of rage, and my finger pressed the trigger. I didn’t mean to. But I did. There was a boom, and the silver bullet hit the door. And it ricocheted off the walls, zinging around the room. In a way, it was beautiful. But it really wasn’t.
“Get down!” I screamed, and I grabbed the nearest arm and yanked as I fell to the floor and covered my head with my hands. A million thoughts raced through my head as I heard the bullet whining. Would that silver sliver of metal kill the one extra person, if there was one? What would they think of me now? Oh, but they wouldn’t have much time to think of me, except that I would be with the half who stayed, of course.
The seconds seemed to last for years, and all I could think of was my impending fate.
I’ll die.
But I’m not ready.
In Karodvia, I’d said I was ready and willing to die for my country. But when death is actually staring you in the face, when a knife is pricking your tender throat, when the gun is trained on your frightened face, and when the floor is about to collapse beneath your powerless feet, you suddenly realize that life is infinitely sweet. That there is so much more to do, so much more to try, so many more to love. You realize that though you may have wished for death at some point in your life, you didn’t know what you were wishing for. Death is black, death is unforgiving. Life still has a chance.
I don’t want to die.












