Alternate story to The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell.
The light of the morning sun hit my eyes, and I sat up immediately at once. Heart racing like a drum, I pounded out of bed and grabbed the knife that Zaroff had given to me for the use of his game. My breathing had picked up speed, and like a lion approaching its prey, I went over to the window.
Peering down, down into the hound pit, I saw there were no bones. General Zaroff was not there. He had evaded his death.
Behind me, I heard someone clapping and then I heard his laughter. Turning around, I tighten my grip on the knife, and made sure that it was pointed in the direction of his laughter.
"Well played, Rainsford, well played. If only the others were like you, and not baboons. You defeated me at my game."
"And you did not kill me in my sleep, why?"
"Why you say? Why, because it was midnight when you defeated me, Rainsford. You are a mighty competitor indeed."
Zaroff let out a heart healthy laugh, and my mouth twitched into a small frown. This man is a truly a monster in my eyes. An abomination at most.
"What do you plan to do with me now?"
"You have won the game, so you are the victor. If you wish, you may leave and come back any time that you wish. Rainsford, you are a worth hunter indeed."
"So this is the end?"
"It is, and you can do a small mission for me."
"What will that may be exactly, Zaroff?"
"I want you to deliver a message to this address in New York City. Now, you may leave. Good bye, Rainsford."
He handed me a note, left his home, and found a boat to get off the island. I had no idea on who the note I am to give too, but I will deliver it to the address. For now, I do hope that will be that last time, I will ever see that monster that goes by the name, General Zaroff.