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Execution:
She sat in the branches of a great tree, gazing at the stars thoughtfully. The terrible game the creatures played would soon be over. Would evil eventually triumph? Would good intentions triumph? Thoughtful, she began playing with her hair, twisting it around her fingers. Soon, morning would dawn again; the wicked game would continue. Someone else might die. At first, she entered the game to help the good intentioned creatures weed out the ones who would wish a terrible fate on the world. Yet, the game swept her into its vicious cycle as well, transforming her initial compassion into cynicism. She embraced chaos as a part of herself, basking in the resulting confusion and panic. Now, with so few creatures remaining and the deadly game in full swing, reality hit her. The villains might triumph and send the world into a time of too much chaos, panic and disorder. Some form of chaos must always be present, but, the villains would tip the scales. The creatures with good intentions might triumph, but would forever remain scarred by the events of the terrible game. She sighed, wondering why she had been chosen to mediate in this clash of two very different worlds. No matter what she did, someone or everyone would get hurt.
An owl’s hooting interrupted her thoughts. Then, silence once again filled the dark forest. She looked about her, noting that the forest would never be the same again. The murders had warped the forest’s gentle nature. She felt a more ominous aura enveloping the forest nowadays. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an owl, possibly the same one that had hooted earlier, swooping. She followed the owl as it swooped upon its unsuspecting prey, a simple forest mouse. Within seconds, the mouse, shrieking, was captured in its claws. The owl disappeared and then the silence was shattered by a final death call. So was the game of life – a bitter game of survival of the fittest. Death was a natural occurrence in the forest. However, the unnatural evil that had settled upon it probably caused the change in its overall serenity.
Slowly, she climbed out of the branches. When she reached the bottom, her face glistened from the tears that had disobediently dripped from her eyes. Even if this game ended peacefully, other games would spring up. The cycle of chaos would never end.
From somewhere behind her, a soft voice interrupted, “It’s almost time for execution. Where have you been? I looked everywhere”
Without turning around, she said with a false bravado, “I’m coming. Tell the others to wait for me.”
Hearing them leave, she burst into tears once more. However, she had a duty and she would not fail now, not when so much was at stake. Wiping the tears off her face with a sleeve, she marched back to the compound, careful not to let any emotion show.
The creatures looked solemnly at her as she entered the circular room. None said a word as they pushed Pickles forward.
Pickles protested, “IT’S NOT ME!!! MY ROLE IS USELESS. TAKE WIND INSTEAD!!! SHE STOPPED MY EXECUTION.”
The crowd mercilessly pushed her forward. Openly weeping, Pickles contemplated her own mortality. With a final burst of desperation, she tried to escape through the door. Before she’d taken two steps, she burst into a column of flame. Nobody noticed the single tear that dripped down the executioner’s cheek. A sword somehow survived the vicious flames and clattered to the floor.
A sigh of relief filled the executioner as she said, “Pickles was Prince Lestat de Lioncourt, who enjoyed beheading people who stood in her way.”
*Pickles was Executed.
Day 10 Begins!
 Thank you. 
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