I take a turn and hurry down a path. My chest feels tight and my throat burns. Every time I breathe, my throat seems to swell upon contact with the air. The water on the floor splashes beneath my blistered feet as I run, soaking through my shoes and rinsing through my toes. My eyes look side to side, scanning through the dim, murky, black hallway as I look for a way out. I take a turn, slip, and continue running desperately from the fear of being beaten, killed, eaten.

I peek over my shoulders just in time to see an arrow whistle towards my face. I pull my head back, quickly, and the arrow snips the ends of my hair. Adrenaline shoots through me like a burst pipe. Ignoring the pain in my feet, legs, and chest, I feel myself running faster.

Good, I just need to keep this up and maybe, just maybe I'll be able to survive.

Behind me, the sounds of bones clacking against one another; the sounds of splashing water; the sounds of low and high reverberating growls, all burst forward, snickering in my ears.

I cling to hope, a hope of finding a way out of this human torturing chamber. However, now, I gave up on all hope. In front of me, there aren't anymore turns, only a dark path comes to an end. I can almost see the clear image of a skull and crossbones mocking me, laughing at me, telling me that this is the end of my path. Another arrow whistles, but this time it tears through my clothes and creates a long gash across my arm. Damn, it burns. I grit my teeth until my jaw cringes in pain.

At the end of the path, I turn around, my back against the cold, black wall and I see the figures of my chaser. About a dozen of so, if should call it, monsters are humongous, red figures and on their foreheads sprouts a single horn while each has a huge club in their hands. Another bunch is decayed, human skeletons, some with swords and others with bows, and there's nothing but darkness buried deep within their eye sockets. And lastly those, I look down towards the green like rope with leaves grappling my legs. Living plants trying to entrap me within them. I want to shout—fuck!—but my quivering lips prevents me from doing so. Get it together, Elliot! Get it together! I put both my palms over my ears and squeeze.

Fear? I never truly taste it until now. One time, when I was lost inside the heart of the forest near my house, I was chased by vicious hogs, bitten by, fortunately, nonpoisonous snakes, and was bruised with gashes here and there. I struggle but I was never afraid. And It wasn't until the next day the policemen found me in a ditch, under a log, unconscious. Because of that incident, I was never again able to play outside the perimeter of the house. It happened when I was seven years old and, now, ten years have already passed, but I still remember, how could I not? That's the reason why my isolation period started. No friends. No after school activities. No parents—because of their work. Only me, the house, and the TV. However, things did get better in high school, but not that much.

I want to believe that this is a nightmare, but the pain in my arm tells me otherwise. Believing and reality are two totally different things. I sink to the floor. Then I look at the blood oozing down my arm and wipe it off. Caught in a situation between life and death, I began to think. How come I end up in this place? Did someone kidnap me? Are those monsters part of a failed experiment? Or am I part of an experiment? Or Is this a prank show? Yes. The next thing I'll know, when I'm crying and sobbing, a person will appear out of nowhere saying You have been pranked! And I swear I'll give them one quick jab and probably another, and then maybe five more to vent out my anger. Honestly, that'd be my best case scenario.

About time I realize it, because I was so consumed with my own thoughts, they've already arrived. They stand in front of me pointing their swords, bows, and clubs, which indicate the words If you move, you die. I look at them, curse them under my breathe, and ready myself. Though I don't how you could do that, preparing yourself to die. Maybe I'll be like one of those people from the action movies and lite up a cigarette. But I don't have one on me, and if I did then it'll be my first and last smoke. I always wanted to try it, don't know why, though. A skeleton steps forward from the group. It's bones clacks against the other as it walks, its steps echo throughout the room as his hollow eyes stare directly through mines. It stops in front of me, then raises up its sword and swings downwards, all in one motion. It all seems so slow, almost like slowly flipping through the pages of a book. Suddenly the sword stops, but not before piercing through a thin layer of skin between my brows, and blood begin to leak. Surprisingly, I didn't flinch. Why didn't I flinch? The moment the sword stopped, a chuckling voice appears. And it says something unexpected. "Alright, that's enough,...that's enough. He'll break if this continues on."

Who—wait why did it sound so amused?...Is it amused because I was running around like a chicken with its head sliced off? Amused that I was desperately trying to preserve my life; trying to run away but in the end was caught like a desperate rodent? Anger began the rise within me, but then the floor underneath me squeaks and opens. And that build up anger dissipates and is replaced by my hoarse screams. I push my hand against the four walls encasing me, trying to reduce my falling speed, but the only thing I receive is burnt hands. Then above me to the only available light, I can see, a skeleton—who once had an emotionless expression—is now looking down the hole with a grin stitch across its skull, showing missing, cracked, decayed teeth. Fuck you! I think, and I throw up a middle finger. It stops smiling, and then it's my turn to smile.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I push my hands back against the wall, legs, too. I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain, and I try to see when this endless fall will end and figure out would I be able to survive. I feel the skin on my palms and fingers already began to split and blister. I force myself not to scream and clench down on my teeth harder until a cracking sound emits from it, but the further I fall, the harder it is to bare. I began to feel despair and again the anger began to swell up. I want to know who's the one that brought me here, the one who wants to see my face distort to that of despair and fear, the sick person who kidnaps and play around with lives.

Closing in towards the bottom, and I brace myself for impact, although I know it won't help, not even a bit. I close my eyes and I shudder as I imagine myself splat against the ground and the pain that will occur before death. However, after a while, I didn't feel any pain nor do I hear any disgusting splat. Or the wind blazing through my ears. I open my eyes and see my nose hovering an inch above the dusty, stone floor. The blood from my forehead rolls down to my nose, then drips to the floor. I'm alive! I think and I release the breath I've been holding this whole time. 

"We're doom...," a voice murmurs, then sighs.

I freeze, then I jerk my head up quickly and my eyes widen. The first thing I wanted to do was shout, curse, and release all my pent up anger. However, now, the first thing that catches my attention is three huge, gray stone chairs with carvings of the creatures I was just running away from, and each chair is towering about 2 meters high. Then the next thing that catches my eyes are the ones sitting in them.

To the far left is a small, petite girl with two massive, sharp horns sprouting out her head. Short, sandy blond hair and big round eyes. On the right is a boy who also had two sprouting horns, however, they curve towards the back of his head. He's slightly taller than the girl on the left and has long shoulder-length purple hair and eyes. Then in the middle, is a slightly taller girl with long flowing black hair. Also has two massive, sharp horns flowing to the back her head, but unlike the rest, they're many brackets that broke off from the original. It looks like a queen's crown. The strange thing about them, besides the other strange thing I mention, is that their figures appear to be like projections. Like images that come from an old movie projector but more holographic.

So let's add up all the things I have seen so far. I hold out my hand and began counting down a finger one by one: One, moving skeletons with bow and swords. Two, humongous, red singled-horn monsters with huge clubs. Three, Moving plants. And four, talking demonic ghosts. Only the thumb left, what's next?

Shaking my head, I collect my thoughts and organize it so that I can say what I want to say without a plunder. I never was good at starting a conversation with others, so I just spoke, interrupting what conversation they were having. " Excuse me, " I look towards the black-hair lady. "Who are—"

Before I can finish my words, the small, blond girl vanishes and appears next to me. Shock flashes across my face and suddenly I can't talk. It's as if an invisible force kept me from moving both my mouth and body. Then she began poking and probing my body: poking my ribs, squeezing my biceps, kicking my calves. After her sticky fingers cover every last inch of my body, she turns towards the black-hair lady.

"Weak physic, fragile bones, and no muscle whatsoever," she frowns. "He's more like a playboy than a fighter. I mean look at this." She grabs a hand full of my black hair, "long, silky hair; tight shirt, and skinny pants. He's practically begging for the Orcs to get him!"

"Appearance doesn't matter," the black-hair lady makes a gesture for her to sit down and smiles. " Only the heritage." The blond girl groans, vanishes, then appears back in her seat. "Sometimes heritages can't be relied on. Remember the last time we summoned someone with a great heritage?" She says, "He died as soon as we started his training, and his chances were many times better than what we have here!"

He died? Wait—who is he? I frown. I don't know about the unlucky dead fellow but I'm not going down the same path as him. Heritage? Summoning? I don't want to know about it and I don't care enough for it to want to really know about it. What I want to know is the way back home. My mother is too sick to be by herself, so I need to go back, quickly. I stand and wait until they stop talking, really I have no choice since I can't move nor can I speak. They keep rambling on back and forth on things about saving the world and something about balance, and from their conversation, I can conclude that the blond-hair girl deems me useless while the other says I have a great chance....or something. I didn't really pay attention to their conversation. I just want to go home. I already have enough, but the question is will they let me go? And highly doubt it. Seemingly to them, I'm useful..or a not so useful tool in their grasps. And with only the snap of their fingers, those red monsters and decayed skeletons would be summoned, and they will kill me.

I feel a pair eyes on me, and I turn to see the purple haired boy staring at me and then he gestures for me to remain silent. The invisible force that shackles my body disperse, and I feel that I'm able to move and talk again. I look over to the two in a heated argument to make sure none of them notice. And they don't, so I walk towards the purple-hair boy's chair with light, quiet footsteps.

"I—" I start to say.

"Don't talk unless you want to hear another mouthful from them. Also, you can communicate back by thinking inside your mind," a voice appears in my head. "I did this plenty of times before and I know that your anxious, scared, and should be angry, so I'll get straight to the point. You've been summoned here—"

"I don't care about that," I think immediately. "My home. That's the only thing I care for. So if you will, take me there."

"Impossible. Not after what we did to summon you here,"

I grit my teeth. "So what's possible? I almost died here. You guys toyed with me, you think this is a joke? Why do you guys kidnap me?"

"...To save our world,"