Ganondork
goo
I haven't done a series in a bit. I'll be writing this one during 1st period, so... :xd: I put a reference in for somebody special. <3 She'll get it when she sees it. It's PG-13 for violence, and my other usual stuff.
I stood in a mid-sized prison cell. I looked around, observing my surroundings. My cell lacked a door, and the only form of decoration was a small, rectangular table in the center of the area. The darkness was heavy on me, but I had long adjusted. The corners of the cell were damp; I didn’t want to guess what made it like that. I sat on the wooden chair that accompanied the table. The back was hard on my frail body, and I couldn’t suppress a moan when I sat down.
A small part of the wall in front of me parted to the right, revealing a pair of eyes. “Stand back,” the guard commanded. I did so; I pushed away from the table and stood up. The seemingly door-less cell opened with an eerie creek. Light from the outside blinded my eyes, and I had to shield them with my hands. A hand produced a small, silver plate. The door shut closed, leaving me in total darkness. I stared down at the food for a moment; it looked a bit like a paste of some sort. I tore at the food ravenously. I ate the food so fast I didn’t even taste it.
I looked at the empty plate. My stomach growled in irritation. I was still famished. I looked down at my food-encrusted fingers and sighed. Without any utensil to eat with, my hands had grown dirty, even allowing fungus to grow underneath my fingernails. I pushed my chair back in and paced back and forth in the cold, damp room. My mind was numb with hunger. I needed food now, or I would go insane with this desire, or even die.
My stomach seemed to gnaw at my insides. I stared at my disgusting hands, fixated on them. I felt hours – possibly days – of abuse finally catch up with me. The blood on my upper lip was dried, but the gash was still there. I felt hatred for my captors like I had never felt before. I had trouble breathing at the thought of this newfound hatred.
I looked up at where the door had materialized a few minutes ago. “I will kill them,” I said to myself, “Kill them all.” I swore vengeance upon them, anger seething through my body. A growl escaped my throat and I finally yelled, “I will kill you! I don’t care how long you keep me in here, I will find a way, and I will kill you! Mark my words, your death will be by my hand!”
For a moment nothing happened. I looked triumphantly at the wall; my anger diminished. I breathed a sigh of relief; I now understood how much trouble I could have been in had they heard me. I looked away, and I heard the door open. Unlike last time, it wasn’t slow and careful, it was fast and uncaring. About a dozen men flew through the cell, armed with long, metal sticks. The first man threw me to the floor, the next two held me down. I writhed in pain as the other men kicked, beat and stabbed me with their feet and weapons. The two last men took me by the arms and carried me to the corner of the cell. Two chains hung on the ground, the other ends hooked into the wall. They placed the chain’s cuffs around my wrists, raised the chains and then walked out.
The door shut loudly behind the final man, bathing me in the darkness I had grown so accustomed to. My arms were up along the side of the wall, my wrists pointed in an awkward direction. I groaned as pain shot through my arms. Even moving my finger caused great pain to my brittle body. I assessed the situation; I was chained to a wall, and very close to death. Chances of making it out alive seemed slim.
I stared off into the darkness with a blank look on my dirty face. I thought of absolutely nothing; my mind was blank. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure in the shadows. The silhouette of the person sent shivers down my spine. What was going on? Was this a guard they left to beat me within an inch of my life? My blank mind stirred to life as fear gripped my heart. I tried to look calmly forward, trying not to give away my knowledge of this person’s presence, but them being there seemed to be weighing down on me.
“I see you,” I said, on the verge of insanity, “I know you’re here. If you want to kill me, then do it now.”
The answer to my plea for a quick death was a giggle. It was not something a guard would ever do; it seemed to be actually feminine. I whipped my head towards the figure. “Who are you?” I asked in such a way to try to intimidate the person.
The figure stepped into an area where I could see them better. It was not a guard, it was a girl. She had brown eyes – which I quickly got lost in – golden-brown hair – which took my breath away – and two features I had never expected to see out of a person before. Instead of the usual rounded ears, they were pointed, and snow-white wings hung on her back. Silence fell into the cell as I took in her beauty. I was completely speechless, and she seemed in no rush to say anything.
“I can help you,” she finally told me. She pulled a small knife out of her golden clothes and swiped at the chains. Like butter, the chains separated without any resistance.
I stared up at her, admiration – and fear – in my eyes. “Who are you?” I asked her.
“My name?” She asked innocence in her voice. “It’s Tekara.”
I was speechless at how she said it. She spoke with such elegance that my rough way of speech could never imitate the dialect she had. Her way of speech were foreign to me, and only added to the powerful beating of my heart.
“And who are you?” She asked, snapping me back to reality.
I thought about it for a long time, trying to think long and hard about it. I tried to recollect any memory that I might have ever had, of my family, of friends, of even myself, but none came. I finally said, “I don’t know.”
***
I stood in a mid-sized prison cell. I looked around, observing my surroundings. My cell lacked a door, and the only form of decoration was a small, rectangular table in the center of the area. The darkness was heavy on me, but I had long adjusted. The corners of the cell were damp; I didn’t want to guess what made it like that. I sat on the wooden chair that accompanied the table. The back was hard on my frail body, and I couldn’t suppress a moan when I sat down.
A small part of the wall in front of me parted to the right, revealing a pair of eyes. “Stand back,” the guard commanded. I did so; I pushed away from the table and stood up. The seemingly door-less cell opened with an eerie creek. Light from the outside blinded my eyes, and I had to shield them with my hands. A hand produced a small, silver plate. The door shut closed, leaving me in total darkness. I stared down at the food for a moment; it looked a bit like a paste of some sort. I tore at the food ravenously. I ate the food so fast I didn’t even taste it.
I looked at the empty plate. My stomach growled in irritation. I was still famished. I looked down at my food-encrusted fingers and sighed. Without any utensil to eat with, my hands had grown dirty, even allowing fungus to grow underneath my fingernails. I pushed my chair back in and paced back and forth in the cold, damp room. My mind was numb with hunger. I needed food now, or I would go insane with this desire, or even die.
My stomach seemed to gnaw at my insides. I stared at my disgusting hands, fixated on them. I felt hours – possibly days – of abuse finally catch up with me. The blood on my upper lip was dried, but the gash was still there. I felt hatred for my captors like I had never felt before. I had trouble breathing at the thought of this newfound hatred.
I looked up at where the door had materialized a few minutes ago. “I will kill them,” I said to myself, “Kill them all.” I swore vengeance upon them, anger seething through my body. A growl escaped my throat and I finally yelled, “I will kill you! I don’t care how long you keep me in here, I will find a way, and I will kill you! Mark my words, your death will be by my hand!”
For a moment nothing happened. I looked triumphantly at the wall; my anger diminished. I breathed a sigh of relief; I now understood how much trouble I could have been in had they heard me. I looked away, and I heard the door open. Unlike last time, it wasn’t slow and careful, it was fast and uncaring. About a dozen men flew through the cell, armed with long, metal sticks. The first man threw me to the floor, the next two held me down. I writhed in pain as the other men kicked, beat and stabbed me with their feet and weapons. The two last men took me by the arms and carried me to the corner of the cell. Two chains hung on the ground, the other ends hooked into the wall. They placed the chain’s cuffs around my wrists, raised the chains and then walked out.
The door shut loudly behind the final man, bathing me in the darkness I had grown so accustomed to. My arms were up along the side of the wall, my wrists pointed in an awkward direction. I groaned as pain shot through my arms. Even moving my finger caused great pain to my brittle body. I assessed the situation; I was chained to a wall, and very close to death. Chances of making it out alive seemed slim.
I stared off into the darkness with a blank look on my dirty face. I thought of absolutely nothing; my mind was blank. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure in the shadows. The silhouette of the person sent shivers down my spine. What was going on? Was this a guard they left to beat me within an inch of my life? My blank mind stirred to life as fear gripped my heart. I tried to look calmly forward, trying not to give away my knowledge of this person’s presence, but them being there seemed to be weighing down on me.
“I see you,” I said, on the verge of insanity, “I know you’re here. If you want to kill me, then do it now.”
The answer to my plea for a quick death was a giggle. It was not something a guard would ever do; it seemed to be actually feminine. I whipped my head towards the figure. “Who are you?” I asked in such a way to try to intimidate the person.
The figure stepped into an area where I could see them better. It was not a guard, it was a girl. She had brown eyes – which I quickly got lost in – golden-brown hair – which took my breath away – and two features I had never expected to see out of a person before. Instead of the usual rounded ears, they were pointed, and snow-white wings hung on her back. Silence fell into the cell as I took in her beauty. I was completely speechless, and she seemed in no rush to say anything.
“I can help you,” she finally told me. She pulled a small knife out of her golden clothes and swiped at the chains. Like butter, the chains separated without any resistance.
I stared up at her, admiration – and fear – in my eyes. “Who are you?” I asked her.
“My name?” She asked innocence in her voice. “It’s Tekara.”
I was speechless at how she said it. She spoke with such elegance that my rough way of speech could never imitate the dialect she had. Her way of speech were foreign to me, and only added to the powerful beating of my heart.
“And who are you?” She asked, snapping me back to reality.
I thought about it for a long time, trying to think long and hard about it. I tried to recollect any memory that I might have ever had, of my family, of friends, of even myself, but none came. I finally said, “I don’t know.”
Amnesia