I wrote this as an assignment for English class, after reading Richard Connell's short story- The Most Dangerous Game. The assignment was to continue the story from where it left off, in 120-130 words. Obviously, I failed to keep the story within the required word count, but I was quite satisfied with the final result, and I didn't have room to add more description. I thought it'd be nice to post it on Fanfiction, so here it is!
The early morning sun was what woke me the following day. It streamed through the open window, brightening the large room. When I sat up in the strange bed, I was momentarily confused. I was not exactly sure if the rush and terror of the previous days had actually occurred, or if they were some silly dream concocted in my subconscious. The idea quickly escaped me though, when memories from those horrifying moments flooded back into my mind.
It had happened, and it was real. The very thought sent chills through my whole body. What kind of sick, twisted person would one have to be in order to be capable of killing a man for the sport and enjoyment of it? I found reassurance in the fact that it was over- Zaroff was dead. No more innocent lives would be taken away by that horrible beast of a man. Still, I knew that my task was not yet complete. I had to report this- find a way off the island, and go straight to the authorities. I had to prevent this from ever happening again.
I climbed out of the bed, and pulled on a pair of pants in a hurry. I knew time was of great importance. I had to find the island Zaroff had mentioned before nightfall, or I would be in trouble. I rushed down the staircase, and made a beeline straight for the door, when I heard a polite cough coming from behind me. I stopped abruptly, and turned towards the source of the noise.
The sight in front of me was a frightening one. Sitting right there on the couch was General Zaroff, and no other. I dwelled on the thought for a moment. How was that possible? Had I not killed the very man only the night before? There was no way this person could be Zaroff, though the two were remarkably similar.
Apparently the man could discern the confusion and fright I felt from the look on my face, for he started laughing- a loud, booming laugh. "Why, hello there! You must be Rainsford! I am Professor Zaroff, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," the man said, offering his hand in greeting. I approached him with caution, extending my hand to meet his. "Pleasure," I muttered.
I wondered what he was doing there, and as if reading my mind he said, "you must be waiting for an explanation. Very well, come sit," gesturing indolently towards the seat across his. "Being a man of academics myself, I never really did condone the barbarous activities that my brother engaged in. However, we can't have a scandal tainting the family's honor, now can we Mr. Rainsford? It is imperative that my brother's affairs are kept secret."
I stared at him while the idea dawned on me- he wanted me to keep my mouth shut, not to say a word to anyone about the murder that had taken place on the island! "Do you really think that you can convince me not to speak up? Surely a man of high education like yourself can understand how the horrid things that happened here are not to be taken lightly!" I cried.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Rainsford, word getting out about these 'horrid things' is simply not an option," he said, shaking his head. "When my brother called me, I knew I had to come immediately. No one had ever come as close to winning the game as you had. I am truly sorry for what I'm about to do, but I am left with no other choice. It's a shame, really- you're such a fine man."
The pistol was at my temple, and the bullet embedded deep inside my brain before I had the chance to comprehend what was happening.
It obviously isn't my best work, but for the amount of words I was able to play with- I think that it's sufficient. What do you think?