Dive Deep into Creativity: Discover, Share, Inspire
"Do you really want me to hit you again?" Jimmy asked, standing on the terracotta mound, as the grass bled into the mesa. His arm was on his hip, chin jutting out proudly, with his other hand resting at his his side holding the hilt of his sword.
"I mean, you only did, like, a heart and a half of damage," Scott said with a shrug. He wasn't scared of Jimmy, no matter what the Red Life tried. He knew Jimmy for what he had been and who he is now; a kind, loyal and energetic man with room in his heart for everyone yet no one at all. "After all that-"
"Do you really want me to hit you again?" Jimmy repeated, more sternly this time. A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"-effort." Scott finished.
"You really want me to try again?" His voice grew deeper, slightly confused but remained firm and threatening.
"I mean, is your task to just hurt me? I'm so confused." Scott blurted out. "Also by shouting a weird catchphrase of 'the florist is gonna get me."'
"Yeah?" Grinning, Jimmy edged a little closer. There was a hazardous tone to his voice that set Scott's nerves on edge. He couldn't help it.
"You have thirty seconds."
The memory of the previous game left a bitter taste in his mouth. Obviously Martyn deserved the win. That was never in doubt. But being stabbed in the chest, then burned alive by his closest ally was not on Scott's bucket-list.
Nor was having Jimmy betray him like that. But, ah well.
He moved on.
Scott hadn't, cursed with too many memories and burdened with pain, blood and remembrance.
"Okay." Scott said. He gently tapped his heels against the horse's sides, urging it a little back. "I- is that your name, The Florist?"
"N- no? Dunno what you're talking about." Jimmy tilted his head like a puppy, his hair falling over his eyes. The usual honey brown was rimmed with bloody red.
"Oh, 'kay, okay." His horse moved further back, at his own insistence.
"Watch your back, Scott, alright? Watch your back." Jimmy warned.
Scott didn't stick around much longer after that.
---
He watched Lizzie fail to kill him. He knew it from the moment she tried to have him step up to the ledge; it was obvious from how her voice was pitched, the tone, the way her hands seemed to twitch urgently at her sides.
Scott hadn't thought she would fall. Maybe trip a little, get hit by an Enderman.
But not fall.
He heard the crackling of the lightning bolt and looked away as it struck at the empty Void, the space where Lizzie had fallen. In her memory and honour, Scott listened to the rolling boom of the thunder that followed.
Jimmy's curse was gone.
The Canary Curse was broken.
He felt something bubble in his throat, a hoarse laugh of joy and pain mixed together in a horridly lovely cocktail. He thought of how Jimmy would react to it. He thought of the shocked widening of his eyes and how his mouth would fall a little. He imagined the shocked huff of breath, pursued by hysteric giggles as he ran forth and proudly declared the curse gone.
Scott was happy for him, truly.
...He still had questions about the whole 'florist' thing, but at least Jimmy had lost his curse.
It was an odd feeling, when it happened. Scott looked fondly upon the last game because of the tether that had snapped when he'd died; the knowledge that the curse was broken, that he'd no longer have to live until all his allies and friends were gone, that the weight had finally been lifted, had relieved him.
He had laughed and smiled and actually felt happy for the first time in years.
Two curses down. Now to break the rest of them.