sábado, 8 de septiembre de 2012

Three Skeleton Keys Alternative End by Bianca

JEAN: (narrates) I felt so alone. You would’ve expected me to be used to solitude considering that my job was full of quiet chores; but it is actually different when you acknowledge that you are really alone. Yes, lonely. And in the middle of the dark with nothing to stare but the mass of rats. So lonely. So frightened. I wasn’t able to sleep because I stared at those horrible red eyes, that hypnotized me and kept me up, and even if I started to drowse (I was so tired), the noises of the shrieking rats tormented me and wake me up again. I knew that we were not going to last any longer if I didn’t try to do something to save us. But it was hopeless. We were trapped, thirsty, starving to death, and with such a low level of air that I could feel myself going mad.
One day, God knows what day it was, during the scarce daylight that came by through the rats’ body I saw a key hanging down the big and now useless lantern.
Just a few, slow FOOTSTEPS.
JEAN: (narrates) It wasn’t a normal key, it looked like a fusion of three keys that became one. I took it and stared at it for hours trying to understand how something like that was even possible, and when I finally conclude that I was probably hallucinating, I found 3 holes in the metal wall of the tower.
More slow FOOTSTEPS.
JEAN: (narrates) In the beginning it seemed so stupid, so illogic, but in the middle of it I decided to took the key and insert it in the holes.
Something CLICKS.
JEAN: (narrates) Suddenly something like a door opened and a narrow passage appeared, with a slope that stopped in every floor of the tower.
Rough sliding SOUNDS.
JEAN: (narrates) Without even thinking, I slide down the slope easily, since I was so thin, and reached the lower part of the tower, where I found a locked trapdoor, that had the same three holes. I tried to open it with the same key, and it opened indeed. It was a skeleton key. Nice.
Something CLICKS. A door OPENS.
JEAN: (narrates) The door led to a secret hiding place, full of supplies and resting places. I thought about poor mad August and Louis. What could I do for them? I was very weak so first I decided to ate some dried meat and drink a gulp of water, rest for about an hour and then climb up the slope. When I reached the highest spot of the slope, I got into the room and saw August crying and shaking violently.
JEAN: What is it Auguste?
AUGUSTE: Dear Jean, Louis is playing a terrible role. Oh, such a terrible role. He is plain white and is quieter than usual. I think he is playing Romeo, when he kills himself with the dagger, for he is so bloody. Go tell him that I’m the actor. I’m the actor, not him!
Quick FOOTSTEPS.
JEAN: Louis! Louis! Wake up. I’ll help you. I’ve found a safe place!
AUGUSTE: Stop Louis! I’m the actor!
JEAN: Louis! Louis! Please… Louise? (Crying) Oh ! Poor Louis, he’s dead. God bless you and protect your soul.
AUGUSTE: He’s not, he’s acting! Stop! Stop!
JEAN: Calm down, Auguste! Let us go now, for we can do nothing for Louis anymore.
Rough sliding SOUNDS.
JEAN: We will be safe here, till the supply ship arrives! I’m now sure they’ll see the rats and find a way to kill them.
JEAN: (narrates) I thought that they’ll be coming. But the days came by and nobody came. The supplies could only hang on for 6 more days. Every night, Auguste cried and shout that he wanted his audience back.
The door OPENS.
JEAN: (narrates) In this room, I couldn’t listen to the sound of the shrieking rats, but I checked the passage every afternoon, with the hope that they might be gone, but they didn’t. Even if they couldn’t see or hear us, they smelled us. They knew that we were there, somehow.
As the hours came by, my hopes were slowly disappearing, all along with the food. I needed to keep my sanity, so since I found some pieces of paper and a pen, I decided to write what had been happening to me, to us, until that moment. I spent my time writing and explaining every detail of this terrible nightmare.
QUICK writing sounds.
JEAN: (narrates) I don’t know what day is today, but what I do know is that the supplies are gone. Entirely. Poor Auguste remains asleep for about 4 hours. Right now he looks so peaceful. My hopes are already as gone as the food.
What I find out just about now, is that the ink to write this story is just about to be gone too, so this are probably my last lines. I already told you what happened to me, so… If you find this, I’ll be probably dead. Otherwise somehow I survived, got home and published my story.
Ha! Ha! Ha. I’m definitely mad.

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