Anyway, I want to enter a short story contest, which requires me to write one. Here's what I have so far- I don't know how it ends. No clue. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. It'll only make things more interesting for me! Tell me what you think of it.
It was his turn to die.
Lucius stared at the noose, his hands tied behind his back, counting the last moments of his life. Eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six...
That was all it took. Eighty-seven seconds before, men who had never known him decided his life was forfeit, decided they had the right to judge between life and death, decided that the rope hanging before him was worth more than his own existence.
Everything had been in vain; all his labors had been for nothing.
The noose swung in the breeze, smiling at him.
Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight...
How did it come to this?
Clinging to the knife in his hand, Lucius slunk around the darkened corner, trying to steady his wild heart rate. This was his duty, he had to do it. It was his task, it was his responsibility... he wiped a sweaty palm on his thigh, trying to sort through the raging emotions in his heart.
This is right. He kept telling himself. This is right. This is right. This is right.
But he couldn't convince himself that it was- why was he trying to lie to himself? His duty was sick and twisted; his task was, simply put, wrong.
But he had to do it.
He had too.
He had too.
He avoided the puddles of milky moonlight that spilled into the street, slipping from shadow to shadow. No money in the world was worth his duty; he was wondering if his reward- the one thing he had wanted his whole life- could ever heal the scar his task would give him.
Was murder worth his freedom? Was another's life worth more than his own?
That was the question- that was the dilemma. Lucius heard the clock tower chime eleven; he had only minutes left to decide. Minutes till he could be free; moments until he could be a murderer.
Was it worth it?
He knew that no one except himself could answer the question- it was his freedom, his choice. He didn't even know why he agreed to it in the first place; everything about it was so sick and wrong.
How could he have been so desperate? Even slavery was better than living with a guilty conscience-
Was it?
The pale moon offered him no answers. The wind, tossing his hair around his head, whispered no solutions; the empty street told him to keep moving, keep thinking...
Every moment meant his time was running out, slipping away like water over rock. Every passing second brought his decision closer and closer...
His master had made his duty very clear: kill the one with the golden telescope, and he can be freed. The thought of liberty made Lucius weak in the knees; he had dreamed of it since childhood, since he realized there was another kind of life, where he was his own master.
Was his life worth more than another's?
Lucius didn't even know what the golden telescope meant, why that man needed to be killed. But his freedom...
Creeping down the dark road, Lucius headed towards the upper-class section of town, closer to a prestigious theater called the White Fox. Perhaps he could... perhaps he wouldn't... his mind split down the middle, cracking under the pressure, and Lucius felt sweat spring across his forehead even thought the night was cold.
He slipped on the mask he had been given, just in case. He couldn't be too careful, could he?
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