Thieves: Chapter 3

Fiction By Elizabeth Anne // 11/15/2011


            When Jovlin awoke her hands were tied behind her back with a rope that had been secured to a metal ring in the wall of the castle prison. She groaned as the dried blood on her shoulder cracked and fresh blood began to flow. Thinking suddenly about the knife in her front pocket, she immediately pushed the pain aside and began to work her hands around to her pocket. A low moan from the corner of the room immediately caused her to stay her hand.
            Glancing around, she discovered the source of the moan. A man wearing a mask was tied in a similar fashion to the other end of the wall. He had golden hair which was curly in some areas, and spiked in others. His mask was black, and covered his entire face except for his eyes which were closed. He was also well muscled and bore many scars on his arms.
            Suddenly, as Jovlin was glancing at him, his eyes snapped open and his head jerked up. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, hers black, as dark and deep as the shadows in which she lived, and his icy blue, which pierced into her heart and seemed to examine all of her thoughts and motives. She cringed and looked down, avoiding his gaze. Whoever he was, he frightened her.
She attempted to ignore his gaze and continued to work her way free. Jovlin grabbed a hold of her knife, and pulled it out. The motion sent pain through her arm, and she dropped the knife as she recoiled. A smooth voice startled her, coming from the man in the corner.
            “Why are you here?” He asked.
            She ignored him and reached for the knife as the pain died away. It was just barely out of her reach. Jovlin tried again as the man continued to speak.
            “I can save you the trouble.” He said as he stood, revealing that he was no longer tied to the wall.
            He walked over to her, stooping to untie her hands. As soon as her hands were freed, Jovlin jerked away from him and rushed at the door. She beat against it with her fists, but to no avail. Slowing her assault, she decided to approach the problem in a much more rational way.
            “You won’t get out that way.” The man said calmly “The door is much too sturdy.”
            “Yeah, I think I figured that much out.” Jovlin replied as she took a pin out of her hair “who are you anyways, and what do they want you for?” She began to work at the lock as she listened for his reply, which was very slow in coming.
            “I am a friend. They believe I kidnapped the princess, and they have always wanted an excuse to execute me. I am a nuisance. What about you?”
            “What about me?”
            “What is your name and what do they want you for?”
            “Well, my name is of no importance, but you can call me Jovlin.” She heard a click as the door unlocked and pushed, only to realize that there was also a latch on the other side. If only she could… “Hand me that stick over there.”
            The man picked it up and handed it to her.
            Jovlin took the stick and began to work at the latch on the outside while she finished answering his question. “As for why I’m down here, it has something to do with my title I believe.” She smirked, expecting him to be amazed at all her accomplishments “I’m the Phantom of the Opera.”
            Unfortunately for Jovlin, she got no stunned response from the man.
            “Why do you wear a mask?” She asked, frustrated both with the latch, and with his cryptic answers.
            “Let’s just say it is who I am.” He smiled as if that explained everything “Besides, no robber nowadays wears a mask, they can just alter their face. It sets me apart from common thugs and criminals. It makes me unique. Unfortunately, unique was what got me into trouble this time.”
            Jovlin heard the latch click. She smirked at the man as she opened the door a crack and peered out. There were no soldiers that she could see, and in the small room outside the prison cell any soldier standing guard would have heard the latch click and would have seen the door opening.
            She pulled back into the cell and turned to the man. “You still haven’t told me what to call you.”
            He grinned “You can call me The Mask.”
            She smirked at him “Well then Mask. We’re about to escape.”


"It has something to do with

"It has something to do with my title, I believe. I'm the Phantom of the Opera." I like Jovlin and her snappy comebacks. :)

Anna | Mon, 11/28/2011

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief


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