(Okay, I'm gonna write a part of a story, and if you like it and want me to continue it, say so) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I sit up, shudder. I try to brush one of my loose brown bangs out of my eyes while I try to remember where I am, what I'm doing, and why I was unconscious, but my hands are stuck behind me. I try to look over my shoulder. Oh no. My hands are tied to some crazy contraption made of wood, plastic, metal, and, of course, rope. I don't know what it will do when the switch a few feet away from me is pulled, but, for now, I'm just stuck. "Um, hello?" I call a bit shyly. A little voice in my head tells me no one will hear/care unless I demand it. "HELLO?!" I scream. Sure enough, a figure appears in the midst of my yell. But who is it . . .? I gasp. I know who it is.

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(Nobody? Nobody likes it? )

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Continueness!

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omigod! continue!!!!!

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(Thanx one sec)

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"And what do you want?" he stares at me evilly. "To be away from you," I spit back. Sure, he may be the most powerful being in our country, but I am very good at showing my impertinence. "Oh, now," he says mock-sweetly, "surely you're just nervous for your big day!" He turns away, expecting me to ask. I ask. "What 'big day'?" "Why, your execution of course!" He swivels to face me. "What did you think the machine theatrics were for?" I turn around again. "What, you mean this old thing'll kill me?" He nods. "Hmm. We'll see how that works, then." He smiles an unnatural, crooked smile. He takes off his ridiculous baby-blue top hat. "Well, maybe you should see the whole thing." He snaps and the lights turn on. I think, Why didn't I think of that?! "Look up," he  commands. I feel like crying when I see the blades, but I force myself to look higher. "Great, huh?" he asks sarcastically. I . . . am . . . gonna . . . die . . .

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Continue pleeeeeease

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CONTINUE!

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I sigh. "Pretty good, but I expected more from you." I lie. "Wh-what?" I catch him off-guard. "Look again." I look up and yawn. Sometimes I'm such a good actress that I convince myself of my topic. "And . . . what's supposed to be different this time?" He frowns, then walks away. He snaps and turns the lights off. "Oh, and for your information, the lights only work with my snaps." A door slams. He's gone. I snap, just to make sure. The lights come on. Idiot, I think. I take a better look at the torture device. Yes, there's blades. Lots and lots of blades. And mallets, too. Swords, clubs, knives, hammers, you name it. All carefully designed to kill me. This thing is literally going to beat me to a pulp. A bloody one, too. Now that I know this, I can try to escape.

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Pretty good.

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