Don't Move

Gripped with fear, paralyzed by pain and halted by horror. In essence, I was made lifeless, told not to move unless I wanted to lose my life. Threats towards me were more than noted. My governing rule became those words and I knelt for my hands to be bound. My life was precious to me, even though before then I did not consider it so.

​“There, his tied up,” one told the other.

Cloaked men who had found me in the woods were not afraid when they saw me. I was a known criminal, but not a killer I suppose. Still, I thought that perhaps the sight of me and these regular people would run and maybe warn the cops once they made it back to civilisation.

However, when I saw them wearing dark purple robes I knew that they were not normal people. One must have been behind me the moment I paused at the sight of them. The assailant struck me from behind with a stray branch. Not enough to knock me out, but enough to warn me if I caused them trouble.

After my hands were tied I was led by the robed men through a darkening forest. It was my intention to escape through these woods and now I was overcome with the sense of irony as my only thought was escape in the other direction.

A hour later the walk had come to an end and my heart was pumping. I could not understand how such middle-age to elderly men were walking so far so effortlessly, but then my delusion was erased when one bent over to throw up. I didn’t say anything although my sense of humour was ready to burst.

I was sat down near a fire with three other bound people. Each one looked a lot more roughed up than me. Two women and a man, none were related, but at the sight of me I finally got the recognition I was craving not too long ago. The other prisoners announced me as a know criminal to which one of the five robed men replied, ‘We know’.

As the evening drew on I came to realize that the cultists were waiting for me. If it wasn’t just the reply that one of the cultists gave, but it was also the tablets that had been placed in front of us. Each one had a carved depiction of ourselves. There was no doubt in my mind that my meeting the cultists and these people being kidnapped were not by chance. We were all expected.

“As of this moment you are not to move an inch,” explained one cultist. “Those who did during a ritual now hang above you all, pierced by nature and left to rot.”

To this comment we raised our eyes and saw above us hundreds of dead...squirrels?

“Okay, who is being funny?” Jacky asked her friends. “You know I worked hard on this adventure, I just need you guys help me fill in some choice words.”

“Honestly, that was me,” Lisa announced. “I’m surprised you only noticed it now, I thought my other inserts were pretty funny.”

“Is that why you were snickering throughout the story?”

Lisa shrugged.

“Okay, let me continue and I think I will skip over some of your words with some of my own in the meantime.” Jacky muttered, scratching out any words written in Lisa’s red ink.

A cultist stepped forward, ready to choose the first sacrifice. Feeling my lifespan shorten as he got closer, I found it relieving when he chose the other man first. The man was dragged to the fire and warned once more not to move an inch or face death. We watched in revulsion as the man was tortured cruelly. Truly there was nothing more evil that...being forced to eat roasted marshmallows that hadn’t cooled yet…

“Right, there go the green words,” Jacky murmured, eyes rolling.

“Well, damn,” Barbara laughed.

One-by-one the people were tortured and each one failed in not moving. Like the others they thrashed as the ritual commenced and then were killed on the spot with sacrificial spear. Two cultists were in charge of lifting the bodies and placing them on the branches with a guttural swing into the sharpened ends.

The damage was immense, but I could not tear my eyes away. Blood rained down upon the cultists robes with each sacrifice and I came to learn that the dark purple had its purpose in hiding blood stains.

Of course, I was next to the flames. Fear pulsed through me, turning my blood cold and I began to shake. I pushed to stop myself as the cultist placed a hand on the back of my head, ready to push it forward.

“Don’t move,” he told me for the last time.

It was then, when the muscle on the cultist’s arm tensed to push me, that the giant...leprechaun...ugh.

“C’mon Jacky, the story is almost done,” Lisa reasoned.

“These are supposed to be funny,” Barbared added. The rest of the girls agreed.

“Fine, fine, let’s see how this ends,” Jacky sighed.

The leprechauns charged from the bushes, towering over the tallest of us and began it’s...song. With each...word...the leprechaun tore the nearest cultist to finer shreds. In those moments the cultist’s knew what...true love...was. Each one turned to...sing with...the leprechaun.

I stood up, hands still bound and...clapped...for my life. I vowed not to look back, for I knew if I did, I would...have to eat a really hot marshmallow.

The end.

The girls cheered as Jacky noted the notepad aside.

“You have to admit, Jacky, that it is better this way,” Lisa continued. “You can write great stories another time, but there is a reason these things are called mad-libs. You need to have fun with it.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Jacky replied. “But we’re practicing to write great stories with these...not to...have fun...wow, I’m sorry girls. Of course you’re meant to have fun with writing.”

Jacky’s realision caused the girls to clap some more and chant, “Another one!”. Jacky smiled, picking up the notepad and flipping the page to the next story and began reading.

The leprechaun...sacrificed those fated to die to the pagan gods…with joy in his heart.

“I hate you all so much.”