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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #2331389
Prompted writing. 20 min. Prompt: It was a pendulum swaying from the dark to the light.
AWAKE!! He woke from the night terror in a cold sweat. The sheets on the mattress were filthy from neglect and sopping wet in witness of his tortured sleep. Feeble light seeped through cracks in the broken-down door, illuminating the cell-like room.

Once again, spared the vivid memory of his dream, he could not slip back into slumber because of his racing heart and remnants of fear left from what he could remember. Yet another night of restless sleep draining his meager reserve of energy.

How many hours had he been in the cell this time? Its walls were too close together for any genuine movement. The only function being a secure place to keep him, that offered some respite. Would they allow him to at least stretch and walk to get the kinks out before the next tournament, before he had to snuff another life out, or before his life was snuffed?

There was no option. Kill or be killed. He had seen what happened to those that refused, or stopped short of the ultimate end. Seen them tied to stakes with wet leather strips that cut into flesh when pulled upon. With the arena dark, all the lights out but a single spotlight, shining down on them, pooling around them, focusing on their torment. The blade that swung on a pendulum glinted as it made its sweep. Back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes lowering closer to the victim’s exposed chest. Sometimes just swinging. The spotlight would turn on and off at random. The longer it was out, the brighter it was when it flashed on, just as it was darker, the longer the light shined. There was always the question of when the light flashed on, if the blade was closer to the sweat and dirt caked skin of their chest, or swaying without lowering.

Would there be a drawn-out scream in the dark, or would the slice show in vivid focus, as raw and red as the scream? Would the pain be short-lived or lingering over many shallow cuts?

Would he wake this time from a dream, or would the leather straps holding him cut into his wrists and ankles as he writhed in agony prior to the rapturous release of death?
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