First thirteen of a rough draft. Short story, fantasy. Any comments appreciated. Any readers as well. :-)
They made me a ball of fire to play with, and laughed when I burnt the skin from my hips, as I turned and twisted to send it through the hoop.
One passage of the ball through that dark ring was all I needed to win.
But I knew I could not do that, for the game had been rigged since the beginning; the three lords of the underworld would never let a mere mortal defeat them and bring a soul back into life. From the darkness where they sat, there was only silence, and the distant reflection of otherworldly eyes gazing at me. I saw only the ball. It traced its burning arc through the air, bouncing off the obsidian walls.
[This message has been edited by Silver3 (edited October 14, 2004).]
I like the tone and the images and definitely the title... but I don't feel rooted into this story because you throw these things at me with no basis. Where are we? Who is this character? What is happening to him/her? Give me these things along with all the cool language, and I'll be onboard.
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