I wrote what follows for fun; it may or may not appear in my book and will likely undergo serious rewrites when/if it does. Just throwing this out there to say that the show is indeed still on.
It was the lone light of a candle that finally broke the darkness, sinuous shadows scattering wildly before the flickering flame. The light was so bright, after being blinded by the blackness, that she could not endure it, instead looking away with slitted eyes to assess the state of her body. Pain throbbed through her ankles in dull thrusts as if the iron manacles that encircled them were really serrated knives sawing through her flesh. Dark red rivulets oozed out from beneath the manacles to mingle with the dried crust of old blood. She could feel the weakness in her limbs. She struggled grimly to pull herself together, to sit up and face the candlebearer with stoic defiance, but it seemed that her body would not respond to her will. Nausea gripped her and she retched, though nothing came up but air. She collapsed on her side, breathing heavily. Still, she tried to face her tormentor. With as much feeble strength as she could muster, she tried to roll onto her back so she could see him. Sudden, harsh, derisive laughter greeted her ears, as the pain of a heavy blow hammered her head, followed by the return of sweet, merciful darkness.
It felt like an eternity had passed, but the candlelight was still there when she awoke once more, though much dimmer. From where she lay, sprawled on her side, she could see the candle sitting on the stone floor, burning low and guttering. Her head pounded painfully, echoing the throbbing in her ankles, so it was some time before the implications of the candle's presence sank in. She froze. A voice hissed from the darkness behind her.
"Where isss Nashhhina Arisssana? Where isss the Shhhadowsssong?"
Copyright Ryan Adams, October 12, 2008 (oh yes, i take this very seriously)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
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