Never Used
04 Jan 2019Today’s prompt: “Describe something you wanted badly and, once you got it, never used.”
The New Year’s party roars in the background. Let them. They have no idea what’s coming. You hear the refrain from the other room: “I was dreamin’ when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray….”
You’ve worked so long for this. Read so many occult tomes, searching for any whisper of the Delphic Dagger. Books upon books upon dozens of dusty books. All that exhaustive research. That only got you so far as the right continent.
“But when I woke up this mornin’, could’ve sworn it was judgment day….”
Research only got you so far. Threats certainly got you farther. You found people who knew, or at least people who knew how to get to the next person who knew. You didn’t always have to kill their family members. Sometimes it was enough to show photos of people you had killed farther up the chain. But blood and threats got you so far as the right country.
“The sky was all purple, there were people runnin’ everywhere….”
You returned to your texts. Things began to fall into place. A dark cliff. A quiet wharf. An echoing mountain. A forest of illusions. You narrowed it down to the right town.
“Trying’ to run from the destruction, you know I didn’t even care….”
And so you found the leader of the resistance. She didn’t respond to threats. Not against her. Not against her family. You tried torture. She gave you false clue after false clue.
It was time to bring out the big guns. The real magic.
Your sorceror wove a spell. The leader of the resistance believed she was free, running from your guards, dodging behind trees, evading their calls. She was back in town, among her comrades. Someone had to take the dagger into safekeeping. Someone had to preserve it, so that even if she was recaptured, she couldn’t give up its location. Someone had to take it from its hiding place and keep it safe. They must never know where it is, no matter what they did to her.
And so she spoke its location. An address with a buried key. Another address with a buried box.
Your sorceror reported back. Your underlings found the key, the box. You unlocked the box. And there was the dagger, nestled safely inside.
And wouldn’t it be apropos to use the Delphic Dagger on this woman who has caused you so much trouble and delay? Who has slowed and encumbered all your efforts? Wouldn’t it be lovely to spill her blood with the very thing she spent all this time trying to prevent you from acquiring?
She’s only the start, of course. The Delphic Dagger will bring down cities. Countries. Continents. But what a satisfying start, to begin with her.
You walk to her cell, dagger in hand. You’ve long since released her from her spell. She knows she’s given up the goods. Her proud demeanor is gone. She weeps into her rags. Her body slackens in her chains. Everything she stood for is gone.
And yet, when the door opens, she locks eyes on you, and she speaks.
“Say say two thousand zero zero party over, oops, out of time.”
The dagger in your hand turns. You can’t control it. You can only watch as it plunges into your chest, over and over and over.
The music echoes out, sounding as though it’s coming from leagues away, as you crumple on the floor, the blood draining from your chest.
“So tonight I’m gonna party like it’s nineteen ninety-nine….”