The cell was dark, water dripped through the cracked roof. She laid on the floor, shivering in the cold. She ran her bony hands rgrough her hair. Ir was once blonde and silky, but now it had became a dull tangled heap. The dirty water splashed against her bare legs. The cold bit at her turning her skin purple. She heard footsteps coming towards her and her once bright soft blue eyes looked hopefully at the bars that imprisoned her in the Tower Of Hell. The footsteps stopped. The sound of leather hitting stone faded. She tried to keep her hope, until the sound of metal touching metal filled her ears. In minutes a strongly built man blocked the little light that had escaped from the hall. In his muscular hand he held a blade that could cut through several metal gates. The key and lock screeched as he slowly turned them. He entered the cell. He wore a dark mask, the slits over his eyes hardly large enough to see through. His body was pumping with adreniline, his large hand tightly squeezed around the knife. He started to walk towards her, beads of sweat dripping down his hand. He cornered her while she sobbed hystericaly. With a cry of power, he drove the knife into her heart. Her shivering limbs froze then fell to the cold floor.
The town of Der awoke to a skin crawling scream that would haunt them for the next one-hundred years, the last scream that ever left Mary Der's mouth.
"Mary Der was the founder of our little town, hence the name, but she was quite a sly women. She tricked our first villagers into beleiving she was God. Mary made us work as slaves to her, never letting us have a break. Finally the priest saved us all, by figuring out she was not who she claimed to be. So we rebelled against her, captured her, starved her then eventually executed her, right her in Der." Mrs. O'Donnel finally paused for a breath, "We will be visiting the Tower of Hell this Thursday, I want you to bring a packed lunch and no more than five pounds for the shop. Got that class?" A lazy echo of 'yes Mrs.O'Donnel' filled the classrom. "Martha Cole, are you going to listen when I talk to you or fly away with the clouds?" I shook my head and muttered ' I heared MrsO'Donnel.' She glared but did not say anything more. The bell rang and she dismissed us. I had been thinking about the nightmare I was constantly having, the one where I was locked up then stabbed. I always wake up before anything happens, though. I'm too scared I'll die otherwise. I hate it. It's scary and it always has been. I've had it every night since I was three, since I last entered the Tower of Hell. I still have to go on the trip, though. My mum thinks that I am silly because I let a nightmare scare me. Even my best friend, Carla, thinks I'm a baby. Yet she gets scared if a football comes in her direction! So I can't win. You just have to get on with life, I suppose.
"Carla, can I sit next to you on the coach on Thursday?" As usual, Carla was too busy chatting to Miranda to notice me, "Carla!"
Carla turned around, "What?"
"Can I sit next to you Thursday."
"Oh, yeah sure!"
"Thanks"
"No problem Martz."
That's my nickname, Martz. It's not the greatest, but it's better than no nickname at all.
