Shadows of the Fall
by TheBlackDragonsSong
My first fanfic.please review!
It was dark out, and very quiet. The stars twinkled merrily above, unaware of what was taking place down below them. There were hardly any lights on, down in the street, and the wind blew softly, unconcerned about anything else but how it should ruffle the leaves on the summer trees, and how it should move about the gardens of the far away mansions.
Our story takes place here, in one of the mansions on this street - a large estate with dark grounds and dusty halls. On the outside of this place, you would think it belonged to a single, solitary person who, perhaps, couldn't keep up with this magnificently old palace, but in fact, you would have thought wrong.
But who lives here in this looming mansion need not concern us now. It is only the goings-on of this place, on this night, in this dark, that concerns us now.
-------
In the dungeon she sat, trying not to weep. She never wept.
Her hands were bound in shackles to the damp stone wall. They were cut and bleeding, marring a dark patch on her left wrist with dark maroon blood. Her fingernails were cut and bent, dirty and cracked, as was the rest of her. Her back was beaten, cut open and scarred by the lashes of a whip.
But she didn't weep.
Her head hung.she was exhausted. Pain wracked her body, but she thought nothing of it. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of tired, and her stomach rumbled from lack of food and water. Yet, these things were not new to her. She knew this pain. She knew this anguish. She knew this torture.
And she never wept.
And just as her body, sore, weak, and tired, began to pull her mind from consciousness, the dungeon door burst open, its creak echoing through out the dank basement.
A man appeared there. He was malicious - his eyes showed this was so. He had no expression on his face as he looked down upon the ragged girl before him as he moved to face her on the wall. From his belt he took a pair of keys, and with them he swiftly unlocked the shackles and watched her fall to the floor, grunting in pain.
"A new task has been set for you." He said. His voice was rich and menacing. With a look of disgust, he threw something on the ground. As the girl reached out to take it, he slapped her across the face with his cane and warned her, "Do not to be insolent with me again, girl."
Her head snapped sideways from the force of the cane, but she didn't move. She waited until his footsteps were gone, and with all her strength, picked up the parchment that he had thrown down, and moved agonizingly toward the window.
Through the bars, she could see plainly. On the parchment were instructions.
And as she read them through the faint moonlight coming between the barred window above her, she slumped down in the shadows, and began to cry.
My first fanfic.please review!
It was dark out, and very quiet. The stars twinkled merrily above, unaware of what was taking place down below them. There were hardly any lights on, down in the street, and the wind blew softly, unconcerned about anything else but how it should ruffle the leaves on the summer trees, and how it should move about the gardens of the far away mansions.
Our story takes place here, in one of the mansions on this street - a large estate with dark grounds and dusty halls. On the outside of this place, you would think it belonged to a single, solitary person who, perhaps, couldn't keep up with this magnificently old palace, but in fact, you would have thought wrong.
But who lives here in this looming mansion need not concern us now. It is only the goings-on of this place, on this night, in this dark, that concerns us now.
-------
In the dungeon she sat, trying not to weep. She never wept.
Her hands were bound in shackles to the damp stone wall. They were cut and bleeding, marring a dark patch on her left wrist with dark maroon blood. Her fingernails were cut and bent, dirty and cracked, as was the rest of her. Her back was beaten, cut open and scarred by the lashes of a whip.
But she didn't weep.
Her head hung.she was exhausted. Pain wracked her body, but she thought nothing of it. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of tired, and her stomach rumbled from lack of food and water. Yet, these things were not new to her. She knew this pain. She knew this anguish. She knew this torture.
And she never wept.
And just as her body, sore, weak, and tired, began to pull her mind from consciousness, the dungeon door burst open, its creak echoing through out the dank basement.
A man appeared there. He was malicious - his eyes showed this was so. He had no expression on his face as he looked down upon the ragged girl before him as he moved to face her on the wall. From his belt he took a pair of keys, and with them he swiftly unlocked the shackles and watched her fall to the floor, grunting in pain.
"A new task has been set for you." He said. His voice was rich and menacing. With a look of disgust, he threw something on the ground. As the girl reached out to take it, he slapped her across the face with his cane and warned her, "Do not to be insolent with me again, girl."
Her head snapped sideways from the force of the cane, but she didn't move. She waited until his footsteps were gone, and with all her strength, picked up the parchment that he had thrown down, and moved agonizingly toward the window.
Through the bars, she could see plainly. On the parchment were instructions.
And as she read them through the faint moonlight coming between the barred window above her, she slumped down in the shadows, and began to cry.