Stoned (#photostoryprompt 6/7/18)

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(Photo by Radina Valova @radinavalova, host of #PhotoStoryPrompt)

Issa and Ron stared in dumbfounded disbelief through the door’s barred window, taking turns blinking stupidly at the empty chains that were not empty an hour ago.

“You were supposed to make sure her chains were secure!” Issa hissed out the side of her mouth.

“I did!” Ron’s eyes shifted down and to the left, his lying tell. “I clearly remember, and I cannot stress how absolutly certain I am about this, chaining the Gorgon up and double–no, septuple checking that the lock was, in fact, secured. Knight’s honor, I swear.”

The sorceress dropped her forehead into her waiting palm.

“You forgot to lock the chains, didn’t you?”

“Hey now, if you’re handing out blame then you better save a nice, big slice for yourself, love. You know I can’t be trusted with important tasks. You told me so yourself.”

“You can’t fight what you can’t see,” a sweet, mocking voice cut through their conversation like sugar-coated razor blades. “Now who wants to get stoned first?”

The knight’s face perked up with sudden interest. Issa pinched his ear and yanked him closer.

“Tell me that you at least remembered to lock the damn door?” she whispered, afraid to look.

The door handle suddenly rattled and shook, startling Issa and Ron into taking several quick steps backwards. Their eyes stayed glued on the door until the handle was once again still and silent.

“I’m happy to inform you that, yes, I did in fact remember to lock the door,” Ron said with a proud nod.

Two seconds later, something hard slammed into the door, launching the door handle, lock and all, directly at their feet. A solid stone serpent, which made a surprisingly effective battering ram, slipped out of the newly formed hole in the door and fell to the floor with a heavy thud. With a long, echoing creak, the door slowly swung open.

“Guess who my favorite wrestler is and I might spare your pathetic lives,” the Gorgon taunted from the shadows of the open cell room.

“The Rock,” Ron said without hesitation.

“Stone Cold Steve Austin?” Issa confidently guessed.

High pitched giggling slithered out from the darkness and wrapped around their earsdrums like a coiled vise.

“Jake ‘the Snake’ Roberts, bitches.”

A hissing chorus of enraged hair-snakes punctured the air, steadily increasing in volume and menace. And then, with the loveliest smile that no one would ever see, Medusa stepped out into the light.

 

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