The year was 1543. The winds were deathly still around a small convent. The old willow tree slunked down to one side as the sun began to set between the branches. And coming up the stone walk way was a cloaked man with a bag on his back. Carrying it ever so slowly as if not to disturb what laid inside.
With the still of the evening the man could still make out a whisper of his name against the breeze. 'Rumplestilskin.' It called out as the cloaked man turned quickly to face whatever demon had followed him there. "Who's there?" He demanded just as the dead leaves all around had begun to wisp around in the wind. Jumping only a foot in the air beside him and then falling to his feet.
Rumplestilskin could hear the whispers continue but didn't know what they were saying now. "They just want me to turn around. To not return this game." He spoke to himself before raising his voice. "Well hear me, demons! I am taking this the one place you can do no harm! The house of God!"
'No... NO!' The whispers against the wind repeated over and over, getting louder and louder each time.
The wind began to pick up, whipping the leaves around his feet up like a small tornado around his body. At first, Rumplestilskin was afraid of what may happen, but his fear quickly turned to anger and desperation, as he flung his hands to the sides and knocked the leaves out from in front of him. His slow steady walking had now become a run towards the big wooden doors of the convent. The leaves whipped in thin air now before going in to a straight line and making a bee-line for Rumplestilskin.
He ran faster hearing the voices risen once more. A tone that was laced with anger. 'You must finish the game! Everyone finishes the game. It's the rules!'
The leaves began closing in on Rumplestilskin. But not before he finally made it to the door and rushed inside. He quickly closed the heavy door and the leaves hit against it with such force that he thought they may just break through. Once the loud thumping had ceased, Rumplestilskin ran down to the pastors chambers. He knocked loudly and wouldn't stop knocking on the door until the older man, Father Marco Gepetto had opened the door. "Rumplestilskin?" He asked in amazement. "I have not see you in years. What brings you here?"
Rumplestilskin walked in to the chambers without an invite as he turned motioning Marco to close his door. Marco did as he was directed and looked towards the seemingly frightened man who now walked over to his bed. Rumplestilskin pulled his bag from his back, opened it up and spilled out the contents on to Marco's bed. The Priest took one look and his face contorted in to a look of fear. "What evil have you brought me?!" He demanded to know.
On the bed lied an old bottle and a book entitled, 'Nightmare World.' "When I found it, I thought it was a good read." Rumplestilskin said, "I opened the book and the first page said 'you need eight players before beginning. The rules, spin the bottle and whoever it lands on goes first. The book will know what to do.' I turned the page and it was blank. Not a thing in it. But out of curiosity I gathered seven people. I spun the bottle and it landed on the first person. I didn't expect anything to happen but then dark whispers began speaking from the book. It turned itself to the first page and the next thing I knew, we were in a whole other world. We had to live out each others nightmares!"
Marco took in each and every word and although the Priest just knew in his heart that there was more, he had seemed very overwhelmed by it already. "Why have you brought it here?" He said in such a low tone that Rumplestilskin could barely make him out.
"I didn't know where else to turn." Rumplestilskin said, "And we had to continue the game. Otherwise, our day to day lives kept getting worse."
"And your friends?" Marco asked, "Where are they now?"
Rumplestilskin's eyes turned soft as his fingertips touched the leather of the book. After a long, quiet moment, he flipped the book open and inside were words and colorful illustrations of each and every nightmare they had went through. "The pages which were once blank began to bleed with each spin of the bottle. It would draw out pictures and began writing out our nightmares." Rumplestiltskin explained.
Rumplestilskin turned the pages and each one was coloured with pictures of dread and death. Fire, blood, and demons. The main courses of all nightmares. And each of his friends dead but one. Zoso. But given the description of the latest nightmare story, the man was not well. The man had been twisted at the hips in an inhuman way. "You have to play until somebody wins." Rumplestiltskin said as he wiped a tear from his eye.
"And how does one win?" Marco asked his full attention given to Rumplestiltskin.
"When all other players are dead, and you are the last one standing." Rumplestiltskin responded as Marco's eyes widened. His eyes darting back towards the book and to the twisted man.
"And right now your every day life is basically a nightmare with never ending bad luck?" Marco asked his head slowly rising to look towards his old friend. Rumplestiltskin nodded. Marco grabbed the book and the bottle from his bed. "I shall bury these within the convent. And you, your friend and I shall never speak of it again." Marco put them in a wooden box as he spoke and then nailed it shut. Grabbing a cross from his drawer he nailed it to it as well before turning to Rumplestiltskin once more, placing his hand on his shoulder. "I wish you luck, my friend. And I shall pray for you."
Marco lightly patted Rumplestiltskin on the shoulder before grabbing the box and making his way out the door.
NIGHTMARE WORLD
Things had seemed quiet for a few days. Rumplestiltskin's luck hadn't gotten bad since dropping that box off. He lived a somewhat quiet life in his small hovel even if it weren't for too long. Rumplestiltskin had just fixed himself a cup of tea and sat down at his table when he had heard it once again. The dark whispers that had haunted him and his friends. The ones that wouldn't let them rest, would only drive them insane. Speaking until one finally spun the bottle. 'Rumplestiltskin.' The whispers sounded, 'You cannot get rid of me.'
The pulse in Rumplestiltskin's ear began to pulse and that along with the whispering seemed to be all he could hear. 'Everyone who plays, has to play to the end.'
"No!' Rumplestiltskin exclaimed as he stood quickly from his chair, his tea falling to the floor. He shut his eyes as tightly as possible. "I will not play!"
'There needs to be a winner, Rumplestiltskin. You must play until only one remains.' The whispers said clearly, and now Rumplestiltskin opened his eyes with a sudden realization.
Before he could think it through, however, he heard the rush of hooves against a cold and bitter ground. Rumplestiltskin ran to his door and opened it just in time to see Marco dismount his horse. Pale as a ghost with the box that contained both the book and bottle in hand. He shoved it in to Rumplestiltskin's hands and shook his head. "This evil cannot remain in our convent." Marco spoke and it was now that Rumplestiltskin had realized the Priest only had one eye.
"What happened-?" Rumplestiltskin began to ask in a panicked tone but Marco just shook his head and backed up from the man.
"This game is truly evil." Marco said, "And you are in my prayers, Rumplestiltskin. But I cannot take this. I cannot!"
Marco mounted his horse and galloped off as far away from the box as possible before anything else could be said. Rumplestiltskin walked back inside with the box, the cross nailed to the top cracked in half. He threw the box down on his table and then sat down. Burying his face in his hands, he began to cry. Each and every nightmare they had faced coming back to him in a flood of memories. "How do I get rid of you once and for all?!" Rumplestiltskin yelled out.
'Win the game.' The voice whispered and now Rumplestiltskin lowered his hands.
His original thought that had been interrupted moments ago creeping up on him again. "Yes," he said, "Win the game."
NIGHTMARE WORLD
At his own home, Zoso slept peacefully and quietly on his bed. His wounds still hurting him and burning him. Getting up from bed hadn't seemed an option for the man the past few days. Suddenly, he was woken by a cold hand clamping down against his mouth and jerking him awake. His eyes widened and tried to ajust to the dark room to see who stood over him. But he was answered with a voice instead. "Shhh... I've only come to speak with you." Rumplestiltskin's familiar voice spoke softly before removing his hand from Zoso's mouth.
Zoso took in a deep sigh of relief as he slowly and painfully sat upright in bed. "Rumplestiltskin?" He asked, "What are you doing here?"
As his eyes adjusted to the light, Zoso could make out the bottle and book in Rumple other hand. Without a reply he knew exactly why he was there. "I thought you were getting rid of that thing!" Zoso exclaimed.
"Turns out this book has a mind of it's own." Rumplestiltskin said as his fingers breezed across the leather interior. "It wants us to finish the game."
Zoso shook his head. "No way in hell I'm getting in to that again!" Zoso exclaimed.
Rumplestiltskin took his fingers from the book to place on his chin. A small smile seemed to pull against Rumplestiltskin's lips as he slowly turned his head and looked at Zoso. A chuckle from deep within, short and particularly scary came from his lips. "I thought you may say that." Rumplestiltskin said, "But you see, until only one of us remains alive, our luck is not going to go very well. So we can either wait for old age to take one of us or..."
Rumplestiltskin jumped up, the bottle and the book tumbling to the floor as he took out a dagger. Rumplestiltskin jerked forward, dagger firmly in his right hand as he stabbed Zoso directly in the heart. He pulled back the dagger and while Zoso took in his last breaths Rumplestiltskin whispered. "I'm sorry friend. But I do not plan on dying any time soon." And again Rumplestiltskin drove the dagger in hard against his chest.
Pulling the dagger back again, Rumplestiltskin seemed to only just realize what he had done. He stumbled backwards and looked at Zoso laying dead on his bed. Blood smeared everywhere. He dropped his dagger to the floor taking in deep and long steady breaths. A dark laugh filled the area of the room while anger burned deep within Rumplestiltskin. "You tricked me!" Rumplestiltskin exclaimed, "You blinded me against what I was doing! You son of a bitch!"
The deep dark voice within the bedroom seemed to ignore Rumplestiltskin. 'Congratulations Rumplestiltskin. You have won. And on top of being the only one alive now you are granted with eternal life.'
A wisp sounded against the wind as Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "No." Rumplestiltskin said, "I don't want eternal life. This wasn't part of the game!"
A dark cloud began twirling around like a cyclone towards the book. Once over it, it picked the book up in to the air. This continued for a moment or two before the dark cloud suddenly disappeared and the book fell to the ground. Rumplestiltskin walked carefully, and slowly towards the book as he knelt down. He opened it up to the first page. 'You need eight players before beginning. The rules, spin the bottle and whoever it lands on goes first. The book will know what to do.'
And when Rumplestiltskin turned the page, it was blank. The nightmares of him and his friends wiped clean. Then the black cloud shot up from the book suddenly. Right in to Rumplestiltskin's chest as he flew back against the floor. He quickly grabbed his chest but felt nothing. No wound, and no pain. He stood once again, took one more look at Zoso before picking up the book and the bottle and leaving the home. He was going to put both of these in a spot where it could harm no one else.
(This book is completely finished and will proceed to add chapters as it becomes more popular. If you liked what you read and want to go a few hundred years in the future to meet the eight new friends who play the game, I will post it with 1 like, 1 follow and 1 review)