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Submitted by: pingpong867

Title: Edge of the World - Rewrite


They always said that life was a battle that couldn't be won.

That's why I sit here, contemplating my life on this cold, hard ledge. If it couldn't be won, what was the use of living it? Though we toil and work all our days for that one beautiful look at the promised land, what does it get us? Souls that are chained and bound to our jobs and relationships always yearning to break free and forget about everything. Once this is accomplished, there will be the wonder of a new life free from the horrors of the world. The goal... the goal is still uncertain. Or maybe not so uncertain as it is vague. There is still the matter of the objective that has to be worked out.

I sought this spot on the edge of the world for both the solitude, and the possibility of release from my chains. I carefully poke and prod at my right side, where my ribs are. Wincing in pain, I shake me head and fight back the tears that threaten to come to my eyes. If nothing else, then I want to escape from my home. I can be free of the beatings and berating, and no longer feel any pain.

I laugh with contempt at the people scurrying a hundred feet below me. Do they even fathom that we need not live as we do? That life based solely upon work is not a life at all, but merely an existence tolerating repression by "leaders" and money? Probably not. Otherwise, they might be sitting up here with me. On the other hand, they haven't experienced what I have.

I have to choose if I want to stay or go. Of course I hesitate to make my decision. It is a difficult decision to make; one that, once made, cannot be withdrawn from. I absent-mindedly trace the swirling pattern on the ledge thinking of all the different ways I could have a better life, one not so horrible. But none come up that sound quite so freeing as the one I am currently examining.

Accidentally, I knock a small pebble over the ledge. I place myself into the mind of the pebble, until I can see and feel what it is going through. I lose sight of it before I can reach the ground, but I know that it falls and shatters into many shards, scattering across the pavement. Eventually the fragments will be ground into the cement by human feet until all that remains is dust in the wind. Do I want to become nothing but dust in the wind?

My pebble catches someone's attention. Who might that person be? A sympathizer? An idealistic subordinate on their way to work? Or perhaps only another passer-by, finding themselves pegged by a falling pebble. I hear a shout, and the person takes the cell phone of the person nearest them. A small crowd gathers.

Soon, I hear wailing sirens and see the flash of azure and scarlet lights. The police cars arrive at the scene, and my loyal fans are pushed away and forced to stand behind a barrier of yellow tape. Some barrier. I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of the police in general.

"Please remain calm. We have an officer coming up there now. I repeat, please remain calm," a plump, cross looking gentleman in a most unbecoming uniform calls up to me over the megaphone. I shake my head, annoyed with these people who could not give me an hour to my thoughts.

I sit up there, then, conversing with the young officer they sent up after me. He's actually pretty good-looking, though I find him completely ignorant of everything that matters. He won't take the hint, though, and leave, even after I give him some obvious hints that I do not want him there. He'll never go away, of that I am sure. He is a persistent man. Tenacity is annoying.

Perhaps if I actually started listening to him, then he would leave. Maybe he'd be satisfied that he did his good turn for that day. Or maybe he'd just think I have Dissociative Identity Disorder... if he could comprehend what that was. Which he probably couldn't. This man is about as dumb as a mule, and as boring. Too bad all that handsomeness was wasted on a fool like him.

After a while, it begins to rain, and my knight in not-so-shiny armor decides that it is now up to me to make my own decision. This is not news to me. I knew that it was up to me a long time ago, before he began his inspirational speech. He only confirmed my thoughts that people are morons.

My fans departed a while ago, bound for their jobs and other prior obligations. "The-girl-who's-going-to-jump" isn't all that entertaining anymore. It'll make a story for over the water cooler, at least. It’ll be a mystery ending though… maybe it’ll be a direct-to-television movie that wins some sort of award. I guess I can dream.

The policeman continues to wait below, gazing up at me dejectedly from his squad car. He wants his speech to have made a positive impact on me. And maybe it has.

I'm beginning to think that humanity is too clueless to be without people like me. If I let go of this earth, then who would be there to stop all the oppression, the hurting? No one. I need to get these Homo sapiens back in touch with what is really happening. I guess my stunt did teach me something. It taught me I was too needed to let go.

Carefully, I scoot back from the ledge and stand, beginning to walk towards the steps that will lead me down to the bottom.

I think they might be wrong.


Author's Note: I worked on the character, her motivations, and some of the repetition. I tried to fix my jerky sentences and develop one smooth style, but that was harder for me. Both of my reviewers also said that they thought this was a very arrogant piece, so I changed the mood slightly so it was more self-pity than anything. And I corrected the one misspelled word.

Also, no I have never been there, Mahayr. Simply a work of my imagination.

Author: Mytyl

Title: Only Once

Contest Assignment Title: Free Choice

Submission Genre: Short story

Submission Being Reviewed: Hell Masked by Damiascutlass


Only once have I made the mistake of having a friend. Killing him was the worst thing I've ever had to do.

When I was presented with the job, it took all the effort I had to keep calm. There really wasn't anything surprising about it, after all. Runemaster Tebril Irkkenson was a powerful man, and powerful men tend to be the ones that capture the eyes of my customers. If I hadn't been his student, the whole thing would have been routine.

After telling the contact that I would inform "my associate" of his offer, I went to warn my master. When I was out of sight, I broke into a run.

He wasn't surprised to hear that he had enemies, only that they were too impatient to let age finish him off.

"Dani," he said to me, sighing, "you know why I've never objected to your profession."

I averted my eyes. "By the time I'm asked to kill someone, they're already dead. If I refuse, their enemies would simply find someone else." It was what I told myself almost every day.

He nodded. "And if someone is going to be paying for my death, I'd rather the money go to you."

I gasped, startled. "But you could run!"

"Where? Why?" He laughed, humorlessly, and shook his head. "To live a few more years in hiding? Dani, I am an old man."

"Please, Master Tebril," I begged, not believing his life held so little value to him.

"There are some who choose your line of work, you know. Some who enjoy it. With someone else after me, I could end up being tortured to death. Or they might send someone incompetent, someone who'd only get the job half-done and leave me to bleed to death. If I run, I'd be jumping at every shadow. It wouldn't take more than a loud noise and my heart would give out." As he listed off the possible horrors he would end up facing, I began to realize he was right, that neither of us had much choice left. "I trust you to give me a quick and painless end." He swallowed, and for a moment seemed to lose his resolve. "Just... may I have a few days to take care or some things?"

I nodded, keeping my eyes to the floor. "It would look odd, done too quickly."

"Of course. Well." He took some books out from under his desk and slid them towards me. Seeing the covers, I realized they were his personal notes. "Take these."

"You have much more worthy students," I protested.

"But none more talented. Take them."

I bowed my head, still disagreeing but wanting them too much to argue. "Thank you, Master Tebril," I said, feeling ashamed.

As I turned to leave, he stopped me. "Ah... out of curiosity. How much was I worth?" He shuffled papers on his desk, avoiding my gaze.

I tried to wet my lips, but found my mouth dry. "Fifty thousand."

"Is that... a lot?"

"The usual price is fifteen thousand," I answered.

I walked home in a daze. I didn't think I could actually do it, but what he said made sense. At this point, a swift end might be the best favor I could do for him, but that didn't keep it from feeling like a betrayal. I decided to wait it out, hoping he'd change his mind.

That night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. I kept thinking about the Runemaster - the day we'd met, and how he'd taken pity on me, and all the years he'd looked after me. I was the daughter he never had; he was the father I never had.

A few days later, after he had eaten dinner, I was waiting for him in his study. I had left him out a bottle of wine and a glass. I rose as he entered, and went to embrace him, then let go, feeling awkward. I produced two vials and held them up before him.

"Oh. I see," was all he said, and then nodded, stiffly.

"It's not too late," I said, "I haven't told them anything." I spoke too quickly, stumbling over the words.

"Dani, I have been marked. You think they couldn't find me?"

"A hiding rune--"

He shook his head, annoyed. "You know how easily those are countered."

"They might not!"

"Danasi! We have already discussed this!"

I stood, speechless. He only used my full name when he was furious.

While I was gaping, he snatched the vials from me and began fumbling with their stoppers.

I uncorked the bottle and poured a glass for him. "Here," I said, taking back the vials. As I added them, I explained, "This one will make you feel nothing, and this... this one will stop your heart."

He took the glass, his hand trembling, and brought it to his lips. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gulped down the wine.

He stood for a moment, looking surprised. "I didn't taste a thing," he said with a nervous chuckle. "How long does it-" He sagged to the ground as his knees gave out.

I rushed to support him and helped him to bed, not believing it could really have been done. I stayed by him, holding his hand until he went to sleep.

Before he dozed off, he murmured to me, "We have no reason to fear death, no way of knowing what it's like..." His eyelids drooped, and he struggled to speak. "It could be the paradise promised by some of the temples. Who would fear that?"

I didn't know which of us he was persuading, but I nodded, and patted his hand.

I stayed there like that, kneeling by his bed, while his breathing slowed as he drifted into sleep, and then, gradually, stopped. I stayed there, too, when his death began to show itself more fully in the stiffness of the hand I still held. Sunrise was only just beginning to stain the sky when I finally left his side.

After I finished crying, I wiped my eyes and went to collect my payment.

It was several months before I worked up enough nerve to open the journals.