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Freedom

5 years ago

“Just a little more,” you think to yourself “little more and I’m free.”

A silver of sunlight passes through the grates of the window high above the ceiling. The room is pitch dark, save for the little stream of sunlight that seems to fight against the darkness and shadows. Your hands and legs are chained to the wall, but picking these locks would be a child’s play for you. First rule was to always keep the tools of your trade close to you at all times, you’re lucky they couldn’t find your picks. You’re trying to dig for the little spring tension, the exact point...

 

“There!” 

 

You quickly remove the chains from around your hands and legs, they were foolish to connect the whole system to a single lock. Right now all you have with you are a pair of worn out trousers and two lock picks, if any of the guards are able to spot you, you’ll be no match to them in combat. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a silhouette. With lightning fast reflexes, you stick yourself at the wall. The person, a guard you presume, begins undoing the locks and steps inside. He holds a torch in one hand, it’s golden sparks pushing away the darkness of the room. He draws his sword with the other hand and slowly enters the room. You wait till his back is facing towards you and then skilfully grab the dagger out of the sheath on his belt. 

 

“Move a muscle and I’ll slit your throat.” You threaten the guard as you put the dagger against his neck. 

 

“Now hand me that sword nice and easy,” you say. As soon as he hands you the sword, you knock him out with a quick hit to his neck. Laying down his unconscious body, you change into the guard’s attire. Thankfully, his tunic fits your body. You put the helmet on top of your head and sheath the sword and dagger. Grabbing the torch, you go out of the room and close the door behind you locking it with the set of keys you took from the guard. 

 

Keeping your head down covered by the helmet, you directly walk towards the exit, following the sunlight. The corridors are well lit with torches on either side. You place your torch in an empty holder and move forward towards the exit. It’s afternoon, the sun is bright in the sky. Beyond the exit gate, you can see forests and greenery. Seems like this dungeon was set up deep in the heart of the wilderness. You step forward in the guards attire and out of the gates, none of the guards seem to be any wiser. Out of the gates now, you rush forward through the forest trail. A lone  guard on horseback appears to be patrolling the area, you quietly sneak up behind him and draw your dagger. Aiming, you throw the dagger and your aim is true. The guard falls down the saddle, the dagger embedded in his skull. Quickly you mount up and ride away at full pace.

 

 

 

Freedom

5 years ago

Doesn't the last guard wear a helmet like the others?

Apart from that, good description of an escape. You made a tiny mistake with dialogue punctuation at " 'Move your muscle and I'll slit your throat.' You threaten [...]." You used punctuation correctly in the next line. That's all I can point out, it's a good passage overall.

Freedom

5 years ago
They weren't wearing a helmet because they were likely just some random person passing by.

Freedom

5 years ago

Oh ya, didn’t think of that. I should’ve described him as some random person rather than a guard like Mizal said.

Freedom

5 years ago
This was a pretty good tale of a dangerous murderer escaping from incompetent guards, but definitely not 1000 words. I guess they count differently in India too.

(Actually I'm normally question the odds of a dagger being thrown with enough force to puncture a human skull but whatever, it's fantasy. Same reason to never question people being 'knocked out' in any fashion, realism aside it's just incredibly common in fiction.)

I'm just nitpicking of course, definitely a vast improvement over the first story you posted, lol.

Freedom

5 years ago

Thanks, I was trying to make another reasonable setting since I prefer realism myself but couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe this was a skilled martial artist and his hands were extremely strong? 

Yeah since then I’ve been reading a lot of books, and also articles on writing and stuff(including those on your profile). Sometimes I feel of writing as a weird hybrid between science and art, it follows some rules and regulations but at the same time can be modified to such an extent.