Brenna Rosenstock - 17 years old - Kuttenberg, Holy Roman Empire

From Create Your Own Story

It was a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly, a crack of thunder rang out.

You looked up at the sky, a weary but determined expression on your face, and saw the dark, threatening clouds overhead rapidly closing in. You lowered your head and desperately urged your faithful horse onward. For days now, you'd been a blur slicing through the vast, ancient forest, riding faster than any mortal had ever ridden before, but all the time the lashing winds, pounding sheets of rain and booming thunder kept closing in on all sides.

Finally, the storm clouds caught you, as you always knew they would, and soon you were being pounded by raindrops the size of marbles. The rain turned the road ahead into a river of mud - your poor horse was struggling to put one foot in front of the other. Then, lightning struck the ground only feet in front of you. Your horse reared, hurling you to the ground, and galloped away into the woods.

There seemed no hope for you, until far off in the distance you spotted the glimmer of a lantern. You scrambled over roots and fallen trees towards the light while the storm took on Biblical proportions; raindrops the size of oranges slammed into you, each one nearly knocking you over as you ran further and further from the path. Finally, you came close enough to see that the lantern was held by a figure in a dark cloak, and their face was one you recognized! You laughed and whooped with joy, and ran with renewed energy.

As you leapt over the last branch and ran into the clearing, the figure pulled back the hood of its cloak. You watched as the familiar, friendly face transformed into the head of a hideous horned demon. A gnarled hand reached out for you, and you screamed as the lantern shattered and darkness swallowed everything.

You see all this from a bird's eye view in your mind's eye, watching with deep sadness, as you stand, completely naked, over the gaping mouth of a frothing, bubbling pit of molten lava. The vision of the woods fades, and you are left alone above the chasm, at the very end of a long, narrow stone pathway above the inferno. You can't remember your name, or where you came from, or what brought you here: you just know that fiery death lies a thousand feet beneath you, while life lies out the door behind you. You stare blankly downwards into the primordial sea of flame, then look over your shoulder at the faraway speck of light, then back down again. You feel the thousand-degree heat of the boiling lava on your bare skin.

You know the choice must be made now, but you can't decide. You look back once more towards the light. A tiny figure stands in the distant doorway, a figure that casts no shadow as it beckons. Something deep, deep inside you is drawn to the figure, and seems to say that you should heed its call. Slowly you turn from the pit of death. But no sooner do you begin to step towards the light than a tendril of flame snakes around your ankle and pulls you down, down, down into the bottomless pit of fire.

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