Hallo! This isn't a fan fiction. Well, it kind of is. It's more of a short story. I'm using it for an example for a short story contest I'm doing :)
anyways, My sister gave me the entire plot and everything so thank her for it. I hope you like it! I hate it though so beware
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As I walk through the cold, stone hall, the chains that drag behind me weigh me down and make a horrible sound. I cannot remove them, or the leader will know. Since I can't leave this kingdom, this slave kingdom, I must continue walking. Walking down the cobble stone path that is paved into the castle floor. Everything is bland besides the brightly colored tapestries that hang from the walls. But even those are scarse.
I do not have any friends or family that I know of. I can't really remember them. Oh well. I don't need to remember them. They're gone now, I'm hoping. I don't want to worry about me. I'm worthless, just like the other dragons here. We're all working for the queens.
I am set on a large metal table, where I am strapped to it with my body and limbs in an X shape. It hurts, the bands are tight around my wrists and ankles. It makes them bleed... the rope they use is thin and jagged. I can't breathe. Even though I've done this countless times before I'm suddenly dreading this time. The time the queen's executor is doing it. He's never done it to anyone before. the executor doesn't care about his job, he just loves killing, which is why the queen must have hired him.
All of this tools lay on a metal dish beside him: A scalpel, a blow torch, some needles and thread, he even has a hammer. There are other things there, like a fire in a metal bucket on the ground. I can smell the smoke. The hideous smoke that rises from the flames. He also has a strange metal pole with a stamp-like figure at the end. Of course, I was young and foolish then. I did not realize what it was.
The things that happen next are not for the faint of heart. Which is why I'll skip to the end.
As I lay there, sweaty and bloody, crying my eyes out but not making a sound, the executioner takes the metal stamp and spins it in his fingers. He's smiling wildley and I don't know what could be worse than what he's done already. I want no more... please... I don't want this pain any longer. Kill me. I beg of you to kill me. KILL ME.
The fire is still hot, and the smoke still rises. He sticks the stamp into it for a while and pulls it out. As he moves closer reality becomes to much to bear and I scream. I scream as loud as I can, struggling to get out, escape, anything but get the rod stuck onto my worn out scales.
Struggling is all in vain. Because, in the end, the executioner will get you.
As the metal presses against me I feel like kicking him, but I can't. I'm strapped to the table. Just another experiment dragon waiting to be hurt and kicked and killed.
Am I dead yet?
.: The end :.
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