Be careful what you write...
Writer’s Block
A cunning escape
As Thade continued to chastise her, Charlie noticed two burly men come down the stairs in complete unicent. They reached for Thade, but he whipped around and smacked the first right in the face. Realization dawned on his face, and he dropped into a bow.
“I’m sorry, good sirs. May I-“ He began to ramble.
“Shut up, groundskeeper.” The first guard snarled.
The man he had hit forced Charlie’s cell door open, and tossed Thade inside like a rag doll.
After moaning like a child for quite some time, Thade sat against the wall with his head in his hands.
“Dammit, Charlie.” He groaned. “Why are you even here?”
“I’m not sure.” She replied quietly, wishing she hadn’t written Thade to have such a hot temper.
“Yeah?” He said angrily, “Well, figure it out.”
“I’m sorry.” She murmured.
“Is sorry going to get us out of here?” He muttered.
Not about that. She wanted to yell. About the fact that, when this ends, you’re going to die. And it’s going to be my fault. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, contemplating until a small platter of food was shoved under the cell door. It didn’t look nearly as good as the stuff they fed the royals, and she cursed herself again when she saw the brown sludge she had written into the prisoners’ diet.
“You’re welcome.” Grumbled the person carrying the tray.
“Wave?” Thade asked in surprise, eyeing her blonde curls.
She grinned. “C’mon, guys. Do you want to get out of here or what?”
“That’s the fastest I’ve ever been rescued. Let’s go.” He nudged Charlie excitedly, having seemingly forgotten their feud.
Dread settled in Charlie’s stomach. She eyed Thade, the boy that had been only created to die.
No, that wasn’t true. Sure, he had to die, but it was to save everyone. He was just so real now. If Charlie left the cell, or let Thade leave it, the rest of the story would most certainly unravel, and a large number of people- No, characters, she told herself, they’re only characters.- would die.
On the other hand, she would probably be stuck in this never-ending loop of a story if she didn’t.
“Fine.” She agreed.
Thade beamed. “Wave, you are amazing.”
Waverly scoweled at him. “Well duh, but what do we do with her. With her clothes... she’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
Charlie stared down at her plain blue jeans, and at Waverly’s medieval-esque maid’s dress, then at Thade’s leather vest and light brown cloth shirt. Wave was right; her modern clothing certainly would not do.
“What about the market? They sell decent stuff there.” He offered.
Waverly shook her head. “Nah. The minute we leave this palace, the royals’ll have us marked as fugitives. We’ll be captured within the hour.”
“Just give her one of your uniforms or something.” Thade said.
Waverly nodded and led the two prisoners up a ridiculous amount of stairs, and into a cramped room. And when she said cramped, she meant cramped. The oddly lumpy bed took up two thirds of the room, the last bit filled with extravagant quills and rumpled parchment.
“Poems.” Waverly explained, while riffling through the paper for a second maid’s outfit.
A piece of paper hid Charlie square in the face, and she unfolded it gingerly.
In the midst of a battle supreme,
A hero’s daring seems to gleam,
The sacrifices he must make,
Are all for his kingdom’s sake,
Struck down like a great tree middlemost in a forest,
He leaves his family at their absolute poorest,
While the rest of the kingdom thrives like a flower,
The family survives their darkest hour.
“Here.” Waverly interrupted, shoving a rumpled dress in Charlie’s palm, and snatching the poem away from her. “Don’t read those. They aren’t very good.”
“I think they’re brilliant.” She argued.
Charlie smiled with pride; That was a bit of foreshadowing she had tucked into her story. At the same time, it proved her theory. If she left this palace with the siblings, many, many people’s lives would end.
“Well, try it on then. We can’t tarry. The royals will find out you’re not in that wretched cell eventually.”
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