FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME
BY BRON



PART 1 – THE DREAM

The elements were shifting, he could feel it. Something evil was stirring. Fire, Air, Earth and Water all battling for supreme domination. He watched as if from the sideline as tornado's swept the land, tidal waves rose in an arc that managed to be both beautiful and terrifying at the same time, before crashing down and covering as much of the earth as they could. Lava spewed forth from volcanoes melting a path of destruction in their wake and fighting for their own point of dominance and polar ice caps melted creating vast oceans where once whole continents had stood.

It was mass destruction and he was powerless to stop it. He was also terrifyingly on his own.

But then as if by some stroke of magic, he felt another presence. Perhaps more than one. He whirled to his left, looked past the chaos that surrounded him. He could just make out in the distance a tiny structure, 'A hut' he thought or possibly a shed, because it was certainly too small to be anything else. Thick black smoke drifted past obscuring his view and he closed his eyes to it as they started to burn. His instinct told him to move towards the hut, to seek out that other life and offer comfort, but fear held him back. What would happen if he stepped off this small area that had served as his refuge? Would he too be swallowed up by the fire or the sea? What comfort could he provide if he also died? But then the black smoke passed and as his vision cleared again he could see the structure. Except this time it was closer and he realised his first assessment had been wrong. It wasn't a hut, or a cabin or even a shed. It was a room. One room that he thought must be part of some larger building. Whether it had all been destroyed or not he didn't know. None of this made sense to him.

He stayed where he was but squinted his eyes and concentrated to see more clearly. The windows of the room were small, barely big enough to fit a man through, but the glass shone untouched by the war of destruction that raged on outside. Suddenly his vision changed, it was as if he himself were inside the room. His eyes travelled everywhere taking in the bleakness of the covered walls, the dark grey foam a direct contrast to the bright rugs that covered the floors and the surprisingly cheerful, though sparse furniture that he saw. A bright blue overstuffed arm chair sat in one corner, complete with red and yellow cushions, a small side table sat beside it, with a lamp offering the only light in the room.

He turned his head to take in more but found it difficult to manoeuvre. He couldn't place why until he saw the bindings, there was a bed beneath him, rope attached to the wrought iron frame, slightly rusted from age, the paint covering it, discoloured and chipped. He would have studied the area further but a flash of light caught his attention and he turned back towards the lamp just in time to see a hand reach out for an object. He hadn't noticed anything else on the table the first time he'd looked, now he wondered how he could have missed it.

It was a knife, silver, with a patterned carving that was so intricate he couldn't make it out from the other side of the room. The handle was large enough to fit comfortably in a mans hand and gave little doubt to the length of the blade. A red stone setting towards the hilt reflected off the light. Moving wasn't an option, so he could do nothing but watch as the hand that now held the knife moved it closer towards him. For a moment the light that reflected off the handle bounced off the face of it's owner and the madness and anger he could see in the eyes that stared back at him caused his heart to seize in fear. The knife was closer now, close enough for the pattern to be clear. It was a long engraved serpent, it's body wrapping around the handle, it's head poised as if to strike, it's eye a blood red ruby stone.

With a careless flick the owners thumb passed over a barely noticeable switch and the blade streamed out. Six inches of gleaming steel, razor sharp and undoubtedly lethal. It arced upwards and again caught the light, however this time the reflection wasn't aimed at it's owner but at him. For the second time in as many seconds, his heart froze, the face of the person he saw in the reflection didn't belong to him as he'd been expecting, he could have coped with that had it been, he'd been prepared for it. Even with the bruising and the swelling of the features there was no mistaking the identity of the person who stared back at him. He watched as her lips moved and he saw his own name form on them, he could almost hear the anguish with which is was uttered. And then the knife began it's downward motion, moving ever closer and not being able to watch he closed his eyes to the inevitable.

A second later they sprang open again.

With a strangled sob tearing from his throat he bolted upright in bed. He was drenched with sweat, it mixed with the tears tracking down his cheeks, some gathered on his jaw before dropping onto his neck to continue their journey. He reached up with both hands to wipe them away.

"It was just a dream" He said in a voice that wavered. Closing his eyes tightly and covering his face he repeated it more firmly "It was just a dream". He repeated it a few more times in his head until he almost believed it, until he was able to open his eyes and drop his hands to his sides, until he looked to the other side of the bed, that was usually occupied. But it wasn't occupied now, he was alone. And his mind went back to the image of another bed, of the woman that was strapped to it and he said her name with much the same anguish he thought he'd heard from her.

"Lindsay"

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