Third game

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A length of white tissue paper lay on the floor. I stood frozen, my bones carved from ice. As I watched, it rustled and moved a little. The bird was silent.
It crept, slow and slithering, towards me. I still couldn't move.

A loud thunk melted my legs and I turned left, dragging my eyes away from the paper. The red diary lay on the floor to my left, surrounded by tools. The colour was vivid in the dim light.

There was only one thing left now. The sound of someone moving around, a man with dark hair and holes for eyes...

My heart was pounding and with shaking hands I grabbed the diary. The paper moved again and I flinched as if I'd been bitten. My wound began to nip and burn.

A nasty giggle sounded from behind me, in the room I'd just left. I gasped.

"Who's there?" I whispered.

Silence was my answer. The paper stalked towards me once more, rustling, the shadows patterned on its surface shaping scales.

The giggle burst from behind me again, louder this time, and that's when I heard it. Movement.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The sound of footsteps and a quiet, ragged sigh. The tool in the office was being dragged across the tabletop where I had slept. The bird exploded in a flurry of feathers towards the front door. The paper was almost touching me now.
The slap of footsteps had stopped at the office door and I could hear heavy breathing. I clutched the diary painfully.

As the door began to creak open, very slowly, I thawed.

I only saw a hint of dark hair before I ran.

I threw myself towards the front door, my foot catching on a stray tool. I swore and forced my legs to keep moving, the pain radiating up my foot. The thing behind me slammed open the office door, the slap of its feet speeding up.

I bolted down the street, terror coating my veins. How could it be back? Why was it following me? The murky light of dawn stained the ground and I ran and ran, the slapping growing distant behind me.

As I finally outran the thing, I heard a keening shriek shred the morning. As if it was angry I'd escaped.

I didn't stop running for a while. Even when I knew it wasn't following me anymore. That it couldn't catch me today. The streets had grown narrower, reminding me of...York. But why did I know that? Cobbles formed under my feet as the style of the architecture changed.

What was this? The city was morphing around me, the shops becoming more old fashioned.

A butcher was open to my right as I stopped, a tray of sausages displayed in the window. Knives lay scattered on a table inside, crimson drips of blood lingering. The stonework surrounding it was decorative; flowers and emblems carved expertly.

The bird landed on my shoulder and I winced, swearing again. His beady black eyes drifted to the butcher shop and he cawed softly.

"Don't worry," I said quietly. "We're not going in."

He ruffled his wings and leaned against me, his head warm on my shoulder. I shuddered and let a tear fall. I could feel shock taking over my body. Would that thing never stop hunting me? Where was I?

I eyed the butcher's shop suspiciously and limped along the street, getting away from the faint stench of blood emanating from it. My plaster was still on my wound from the last game but my ankle ached. Stupid holes for eyes monster.

I leaned against a wall and breathed in the cool air. There wasn't a soul in sight. I couldn't help but compare the silence to the town in my dream. It had been full of life, families milling about. This was a void. It almost felt like the set of a film, waiting for its leading actors to bring it to life. Its players, ready to put on a show. I swallowed the sob in my throat, forcing the shock back. I would die if I let panic win.

I opened the red diary, flicking through the pages. The first entry was the same as before, in the hospital. Why was this following me as well? It was the description of the date and my mind went back to the dream. I had been writing in the diary in my dream as well. Was this my book? But no. I hadn't been in control.
I flicked to another page and the words from the dream were right there in dried ink:

Today was amazing...

But the writing continued, as if the author had went back to it after being interrupted.

It said:

I might be in love. I've never felt anything like that before and I always thought it wasn't for me. But I feel it.

Also, I woke up last night and I'm sure I heard it again. Heavy breathing, like someone was standing outside the window. But Mum says I'm dreaming. When I went to check, Grandma's cross was broken on the floor. I'm so glad I can talk to you like this. I don't want to go to church today. I've heard...

But the last few lines were scored out in a slash of red. As if someone else had scribbled out her words.

Secrets. The word felt oily in my mind.

My stomach growled and I sighed, rubbing the last mark of the tears from my face. I walked for a minute or so and found a local shop, apples and oranges stacked in wooden boxes outside. I took an apple and ate it quickly, then another. My hunger dimmed from a fire to a candle.

As I wandered, I saw a figure in the distance.

The street descended downwards and it was on the left side that I saw a girl. Not one I recognised. Lank strands of pink hair gave her a modern look which clashed with the cobbled streets. She was dressed all in black and her mouth was turned down.
I felt sorry for her for a moment and then I remembered Benny.

I moved towards her and then another unwelcome face appeared from the other direction. Sorrow walked towards us alone. He was not smiling.

"Seems like this game is only for us, Nameless," he said, raising a brow. The girl stared at him and scowled.

"I can't believe I'm paired with you again. Where are your stupid friends?" she asked, stuffing a hand in her pocket. "And who is Nameless?"

I stared her curious eyes down, the bird fluttering above us. Her gaze was frozen honey amber.

"Who's asking?" I snapped, tired from my scare earlier. Nerves were beginning to burn through me as well, thinking about another game. What would it be this time?

"Kestrel," she said, giving me a nod. "Nice to meet you. Let's try and not die."

She held out her hand but I didn't take it. I'd learned my lesson well.

Sorrow chuckled when he saw my wary expression.

"She had a run in with Benny. So you're still friendless, Kes. And I have no friends here. My acquaintances were not invited to this game," he said.

She dropped her hand and there was a small uncomfortable silence.

"We're not all like Benny, you know," she said, her eyes catching mine again. My wound throbbed under the plaster.

"It doesn't matter," I said softly, avoiding that gaze. "What game is this?"

Even as I was asking the question, a building to our left lit up. It looked older than the buildings surrounding it, the stone blackened by soot and age. The entrance was misshapen, the ground sunken by the weight of many footsteps over the centuries.
To me, it was a maw. Ready to swallow us up. Even as Kestrel went to speak, a sign glowed neon above the entrance:

The Dungeon

A strange jingling came from inside, like the shaking of many sets of keys.

"Like I said, let's not die." Kestrel smiled at me, her hand trembling. Sorrow's fists were clenched and to make things worse, the Other stepped onto the street along with Gabriel.

His masked face swung towards me and I shivered. A tension hung between us, broken by Gabriel. Her mouth twisted into a grin and she threw her red hood back, revealing her dirty blonde locks.

"Hello, suckers. Hope you're ready to play."


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