Before I begin, I would like to state that in this story a daggel is a small dagger-like weapon. It consist of about a five inch long piece of bamboo with a sharp metal tip on it, no longer than an inch or two. This came to me in a dream, so I don't know who anyone is, or why their doing what their doing. Enjoy!
We approached the stairs. On the grey walls words were written, cuss words, names, warnings. On the mainland, no one spoke of the island louder than a whisper, for fear they would hear us. Three names were printed on the stone walls: Sark, Weath, and Ether. They were written in dripping letters of blood red. I gripped my daggel and whispered to Carsi,
“Look. Those are islander names, right?” She looked and her eyes got wide. She looked to me and put a finger to her lips. I understood. The group was frightened enough just to make this journey across the tunnel, but the idea three islanders were joining us was too much to bear. Gang members sat outside of the entrance sharpening the blade of their daggel. We looked down as we passed them, so as not to make eye contact. The tunnel was damp and dark and smelled of mildew. We entered anyway.
I felt as if a thousand pairs of eyes were on me. I was in a large group, but we mainlanders were often cowards and the group would run at the sign of fear. I felt a breath on my back. I turned, but no one was there. The group had gotten ahead of me, so I sped ahead a little. The breathing continued, but every time I turned there was nothing there. Finally, about ten minutes into the tunnel I turned around quickly with my daggel drawn and stabbed something in the chest. An islander. His long, curly, unkempt hair was shiny black, almost purple in the dark. His face was hidden by a shadow. Suddenly my heart stopped. The tunnel was so quiet I could feel the silence. I tried to back away, but my feet wouldn’t move. I tried to scream, but my voice didn’t work. I knew of the islander. It was The Sark, of the brothers three. He reached up quickly and grabbed my hand.
“Wrong move, missy,” He growled. He snatched the daggel and stabbed my chest back. Then my leg. I crippled to the floor. He jabbed my arm and my shoulder. I lingered on the brink of consciousness.
“Help,” I whispered. I suddenly found a new strength, “Help!” I cried at my group. The strength didn’t last as Sark stabbed my throat.
“Please,” I whimpered.
“I'm sorry, I, I can’t.” Replied Carsi before the group turned and ran. That was the last thing I saw, before I knew I was gone.
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