Victory, a sweet pleasure of diminishing one or more others for oneself uplifting. the taste of a warm candy with a slight tint of cake. Yet somehow not to sweet nor to bland. The perfect balance of salt in the candy at texture that seems godly. Though this is at first. Whether it rushes to your head is a different story. Still, another point of victory is guilt. The guilt having defeat an other for might not be a good reason. This is a taste of saltiness and bitter with a sickening to your stomach.
"Cinderella! Come and do the dishes!" The angry stepmom shouts. "I'm coming!!" Cinderella rushes down the stairs wanting to end this miserable life of hers. Continuing to do chores till nightfall with her angry stepmom and stepsisters yelling at her to do this or that or "Get OUT of MY WAY", she steps out side to take a breath of air. Out of nowhere a fairy appears then somehow transforms to a older looking lady. "Whoa, who are you!" Cinderella remarks. "Cinderella, my dear, I'm your fairy godmother. You know how your step sisters are going to that big gala, you should join them. We'll redress you and redecorate you to be all fresh and ready!" The old lady says. "Wait--" Cinderella starts to reply but gets cut off. "So that settles it! Time for a makeover! At the ball Cinderella had no one recognize her from all the makeup. her stepsisters were trying to dance with the prince as with everyone else but she decided to stay by herself just enjoying life for once. At one time during the gala, surprisingly the prince asked her to dance, "Why, is a pretty young lady like you all alone? Would you like to dance?" The prince asked Cinderella, of course she agreed. With the end of the night being dancing and having fun with the prince. Even if she was getting a few jealous stares. She was having fun for maybe the first time since childhood. As the clock was about to stick midnight, Cinderella remembered her godmother telling her she would go back to the dirty ragged cloths everyone would recognize her in. Without a word she sprinted out of the gala leaving the prince speechless. After that night the prince searched the entire town looking for Cinderella but never found her in the closet her stepmother counted as a bedroom.
The character acted ashough he never handled a gun, and that's impossible it's 3000 AD in America of all places, top country of war, violence and crime. He didn't sign up for this, but raffled, as population control. After the war ended you'd think that population wasn't a problem, but the numbers have been calculated by a large number of scientist (robots) and told that we're about a billion over the limit. The players are 18 and 10,000 from all around the world to compete, not against each other, the system. So, one year they all can pass, the next they all fail, this is to make sure the weak fall and the strong rise. So, the voice said “Take your shot, stranger. You’ll only get one.”
The blade unraveled like made from string, thought it stayed in the position no matter the force until the wielder let it off. The trees rustled, bushes swayed. Wind blew, clouds traveled. All was moving, but the blade stayed perfectly still. The wielder never moved. A bounty hunter, the best of them all, paid from the dark web and back alleyways. She is what he came for. A powerful magic user, one of the last, the kingdom was trying to save the magic, to use them and harness it. The combatants in the shadows did not want their rivals to take advantage. They wanted them all gone. Every. Last. One. She was smart, she hid for as long as she could, 15 years since her power was discovered, and fought after. Yet, "Her wits were no match to my blade." I told the master.
"Your time is up. Better run!" Darkness grows as you run into the maze of shadows. Monsters, bloody, black monsters appear from every corner. they bleed invisible as the lights shut off. Darker than black of night, it is impossible to see. Keeping one hand on the wall and run. Straight. Into. Death. A bang screeches. A scream echoes throughout the maze, life fades from existence.
In a heart-shaped box, a mother keeps her children’s teeth. She walks through a hallway, it is dark, gloomy, eerie even. She walks pasts doors that lead to rows of beds and to the end of the hallway lies a door. darkness creeps up and engulfs the torches flame. Shadows grow.
