Assignment F

For this week's assignment we had to take last week's character and create a situation with dialogue and written in 1st or 3rd person view. As you can see I chose third. Where the inspiration for this one came from I not certain, but I was doing a little a little research on prices for tours round the Tower of London and decided I wanted to incorporate the tower into my story.

However, as I wasn't able to find much on the royal members who had resided there over the past 1000 years I decided on the person/people in this story which I've called "Counted".

----------

Skidding round the corner and almost losing his footing, Pete continued to run through the numerous corridors of Hungary‘s greatest tower, not daring to look behind through fear of hitting into something or someone he didn‘t fancy hitting. Besides, he knew what was behind and it wasn’t something he’d want to see again, anyway.

“Come the fuck back!”, a voice echoed, bouncing off of every wall along with the thump of something hard against the cold, grey stone. God knows who it was but Pete wasn’t going to find out anytime soon if it could be helped.

Turning another corner, he spotted a large wooden door, slightly open which, judging from the strip of yellow light that shone through the gap, would provide a hiding area.

Slowly closing the door to it’s original position, Pete turned on his heels and saw that someone he hadn’t seen when he’d entered the room seconds earlier was sat on the bed, smiling softly. She was dressed in a large, decorative dress which only a person of royalty would be fit to wear with her hair tied up and a smile that could freeze anyone in their path, including, evidently, Pete. Still smiling, she gently licked her lips, removing what looked like a small speck of blood. She’d either bitten her lip or, if she was who Pete thought she was, she’d just had a meal.

The woman in front of Pete could only be Elizabeth Bathory of Hungarian royalty.
“Can I help you?”, she asked in a soft yet strong voice.

Rumours had been floating around that the Countess had been taking in female workers (with teenage virgins being her favourite) and torturing, mutilating and even killing them, 10s at a time. She’d apparently also been bathing in their blood to remain beautiful. If the latter was true, it had certainly worked.

“N-no. I mean, yes. Some nut bag out there seems to have a slight disliking towards me. Fancy telling him to fuck off out of here, save my skin and be a heroine to the city?”, he replied in a sentence which seemed to instead be just one long word. He quickly added “Your Highness”, for good measure.

She pondered the thought for a moment, flicking her eyes around the room, then stopped still and said flatly: “You mean the Count of Hungary, my husband?”
Half a second after hearing that final syllable, Pete had opened the door and started running. There was no way he’d be staying in the presence of that woman and her wild husband.

However, the escape card was not in the hands of Pete and, as he ran round the first corner of the corridor, a searing paid shot through his body. Looking down at his torso, he appeared to be impaled upon the Count’s razor-sharp sword.
“You’ve been Counted” were the last words Pete heard.

------------