Young Writers Society

I look through the tiny window in the door of my cell and see that the keys to the door were still in the lock. I try pushing the door open and it moves smoothly. Guards are trained to never forget the keys and this couldn't have been an accident. I turn the keys in the lock to lock the door behind me and I walk away, my bare feet not making any sound on the cold stone floor.

I reach the door to the dungeon and ease it open. I slip out and see two guards with their backs turned. Then I do the stupidest thing I ever did. I run. The guard yells something inaudible but probably offensive. My lungs are burning nut the door was in sight. I reach out my hand for the knob and slip through the door. Unfortunately, I don't notice the guard standing on the other side until it's too late. It is a tall, burly man with medium skin and hateful eyes. I recognize him immediately as the guard who arrested me and put me in my cell in the first place. He raises his sword over his head and brings it down hard on my shoulder. I collapse to the ground as an indescribable pain shoots up my left arm. Spots begin to fill my vision and within a few seconds, the world went dark.

.

I wake up with a scream. I look over at my left arm. The pain was terrible and the bandage holding it together is stained red with blood. My screaming continues until the woman guard, who let me escape, clamps a hand over my mouth.

"Shut up," She says. "I was trying to help you."

"Please," I wheezed.

"Fine, I'll put you out of your misery." That's when I noticed the gleaming knife in her hand. I had just enough time to mentally plea for death before the knife entered my back and I was dead to the mortal world.