The pandemonium descended into utter chaos. We children buzzed with activity from our perch, tossing ancient relics at the enemies below. Most only provoked annoyance, but heavier artifacts dealt legitimate damage.

Someone shouted for us to move, and I dodged them just in time. The offending classmate heaved a bucket over his shoulder, dumping boiling water on the pirates below. Eyes alit with recognition, others hurried towards the water source, arming themselves with pots and vases as they went.

I, not prone to violence nor battle, watched more than anything else. The children were determined, not only to save themselves but those oblivious to the mayhem occurring. Anyone outside would have no way of knowing the dangers within. We moved with purpose, cycling through people so each willing could reach the edge, heft their object, and scurry off to find another. I determined three main groups of children.

The first were actively participating, eager to aid in the plight of battle. They were constantly moving, always a makeshift weapon in hand.

The next group included me. We danced on the side lines, not quite helping or hurting. We watched, yet made no move to contribute.

The final party was those more squeamish. Disinclined to watch the bloodshed they pushed themselves against the wall, shielding their eyes from any disagreeable sight.

This system worked for all, until the pirates grew savvy to our arrangement. Not ignorant enough to climb the stairs and attack us head on, they instead ascended the stairs to the balcony directly across from ours. They had cannons.

Whether they had brought it from whence they came, or made use of an exhibit, they positioned the cannons parallel to our efforts, and began to fire.

We ducked as a whole as the metal sphere embedded itself into the wall. It was much slower than I had imagined, dangerous yet allowing ample time to move from the way. Another round cascaded onto our effort, and again we scrabbled to avoid them.

Again we constructed a coordination, learning the pattern of fire we were careful to fall to the ground at the right moment, and then throw our weapons seconds later. It was all working quite smoothly until we lost the first of our own.

A cannon blast aimed early and low, rocking the foundation of the balcony instead of the wall behind. A boy had just leaned forward to drop his relic when it hit. A look of shock crossed his face, and before he had time to react he was tumbling over the edge. A scream pierced the air, and to my disbelief it was mine alone.

We rushed to the edge, peering over to assess his fate. As his body hit the skirmish, pirates descended on him, blocking all view. They hacked and speared, and when they dispersed the only sign of the boy was a deep red spot.

I screamed again, backing up until my back hit the wall. I fell to my knees, covered my eyes with tightly knit fingers, and continued screaming. I was not alone in this act however, several boys and girls alike mimicked the action. Reality descended and a new panic welled inside.

"We need to be more careful," Christopher announced, he was definitely affected by the event, but attempted to contain it, "Would anyone be willing to guard the staircases?"

After a silence, at least by the present party, two children stepped forward. They took their places on the staircase, determination flooding their young eyes.

I still hadn't ceased screaming, or lifted my eyes. It had become both involuntary and unstoppable at this point. I succumbed to it, having no other option. Cannons shook the wall beside my head, and I cowered, afraid to look up.

"It's okay," a surprisingly loud voice spoke directly to me. I realized the volume was only noticed because all other noises had ceased, "Annabel, it's okay. You can look up now."

A boy, Gabriel if I remembered correctly, extended his hand to me, offering to help me to my feet. I accepted, but the trembling wouldn't stop.

"The pirates and Indians seceded, for now," he explained, "We don't know for how long, but it's a nice break."

"How did they get here?" a girl wondered aloud, "They're- they're pirates. Like from stories. It doesn't make sense."

A strangled noise escaped my lips, and each head turned towards me.

"Annabel," a boy furrowed his brow, "How did you came across the pirates? You were first to see them."

Eyes narrowed suspiciously and I shrunk into myself, frightened at this sudden turn.

"I- I touched a rock, from the gem room. I was just curious, I swear-" seeing their looks I continued quickly, "And I turned around, and there they were."

"So you released them?" another boy's mouth dropped incredulously.

"Timothy is dead because of you!"

"It was an accident," I squeaked, but far too quiet to be heard over the angry accusations. I looked to Christopher, hoping to once again appeal to him, but his gaze was as darkened as the rest.

"If you released them," his gaze never faltered, "It's up to you to put them back."

"How?" if it was so easy I would have done it long ago.

"Lure the pirates over and touch it again."

"But what if it doesn't work," my brow furrowed in exasperation.

He seemed to be trying to pick out the right words. He opened his mouth to speak, but I immediately cut him off, "So that's it. You're forcing me to choose, between me and you," I blinked angry tears from my eyes, "Either I succeed or die trying. They'll surely kill me if they get a chance."

He said nothing, but his silence confirmed my words to be true. I looked about, but was only greeted with cold, blank looks. It was a wonder how immediately they turned against me.

"Fine," I relented, still sporting a narrow gaze, "What do you want me to do?"

Oh yes, lots of excitement indeed. The only thing that could rival such excitement in fact, would be your leaving of a review! Please?