Gifted

Honourable Mention in the 'Zapped! 2001' competition

The cautious footfalls of his booted feet echoed on the harsh, cold stone walls – the only sound besides the occasional drip of stale water and the faint rush of air through the labyrinth of tunnels. The air here was cold – it stung his cheeks and nose. If it were possible for a place to smell of despair and darkness then this would reek of it. He gripped the reassuring hilt of the sword, now warmed from his callused hand, and continued to creep forward.
He felt his loneliness here like a great burden. He thought of his friends, their laughter and happiness. He thought of them screaming, screaming until their lungs had burst and they had died, unimaginable terror forever etched on their faces. He was one of the last, except for those who hid underground, completely insane. He shivered, remembering the sound of pure and utter fear as it shrieked itself from a petrified victim and assaulted his ears as he hid, trying not to scream himself from the sound.
He stopped, and the echoes silenced. Forcing his hand to refrain from shaking, he felt for the doorknob he knew was hidden in the shadow, while at the same time drawing the sword from its scabbard. The blade glittered and shone, casting rays of light into the impenetrable darkness as if it were made of light itself. He waited for his breathing to slow, and smoothly opened the heavy door.
She laughed. Then did so again, taking pleasure in the way it rolled in her belly and bounced off the walls of the huge chamber. She reached out with a slender arm and played awhile with the flame of one of the unearthly fires that burned nearby. For an instant, she became the flame – then she withdrew her hand and made patterns with the trails of smoke, revelling in her own power and deadly beauty. It was then that the door swung open.
A boy, nothing more, seemed to be challenging her power. She grinned, revealing numerous smooth, pointed teeth, and rose to confront him. Then she began to dance. Her dance was to all the unheard wails and screams of the netherworld, and as she twisted and moved in the bloated and sickened light that resembled a doomed and dying star, she showed him all the despair and fear and eternal pain that existed. She showed him, in her dance, the pointless waste that life is; a prelude to a horrible existence forever screaming in the burning, soul-tormenting pits of ever after. Thus, had she conquered worlds and pulled proud men to their knees, despair and fear poisoning their hearts.
He stood.
His heart was pounding, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the sword, but still he stood.
Closer she came, now furious, and looked into the pale blue eyes of the one who would resist her. Her own demise stared back at her, and she screamed. The blind boy thrust the sword through her heart.

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