October 11, 2012
By RachelG BRONZE, Wilmington, North Carolina
RachelG BRONZE, Wilmington, North Carolina
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When Rainsford woke the next morning, he realized that he was in General Zaroff's bed. What had happened the night before? Why was he here? He suddenly remembered. He had won. He was the first person to win the game. What was he to do now? He had the island all to himself and all the food he could ever need. He still wondered, what was there to do on such a lonely island.

For the first few days Rainsford inhabited the island, it seemed almost like it was paradise. He was on the beautiful island, alone, in almost complete silence except for the faint squawking of various jungle birds. It seemed perfect. Unfortunately, it wasn't too long before Rainsford became bored with this lifestyle. He needed human contact, something to do to keep busy or someone to talk to. Unfortunately all the prisoners Zaroff kept had all died off. Although he felt and understood these needs he remembered to stay sane and not become savage, but what could he possibly do here?

“How did the General live a life here?” he wondered. “It must have been so depressing.” Rainsford peered through the dark, lurid jungle and thought; “There must be something to keep me busy. What did Zaroff do?” Suddenly Rainsfored educed that Zaroff played a game, a very gruesome, savage game that Rainsford wouldn’t dare to attempt, for it was frowned upon and was quite insane. He decided to take a walk to clear his head of these uncultured thoughts.

As Rainsford walked through the thick, wet jungle trees he heard footsteps. Well not footsteps, more like the sound of running on a pile of loose burnt leaves. He got excited for he thought that there might be another person on the island. He considered that this person could be a rebel, or maybe another murderer. He decided to pull out his pistol just in case. As he neared a patch of sappy, flat acacia trees he noticed a shadow. The mysterious figure muttered, “ Zaroff, please…don’t hurt me.” As Rainsford listened to the deep, raspy voice plea to Zaroff, he remembered himself in the jungle running from the general, telling himself to keep his nerve. He could sympathize for this man. He too was almost killed by Zaroff.

Even though Rainsford felt for this man and knew exactly the terror that he was facing, he couldn’t help but think, “ This is what gave Zaroff pleasure. I have had no fun, or hunt for past few weeks and this is what Zaroffs solution was.” He decided that he would “play” with the shadow. He would tell him to slowly emerge from behind the tree and point a gun at him. The man would then assume that Rainsford would shoot him but instead Rainsford would purpose an offering. The shadow would be given 5 days to escape the island and if this task were not completed he would then be found and murdered. Rainsford however would not actually kill him but instead keep him as a companion on the lonely, quiet island.

As Raisnford commanded the figure to egress, the shadow slowly started to move. Rainsford was holding the gun with his finger on the trigger but with no intension of shooting. As the figure finally was completely shown in the light Rainsford’s finger was pressed hard on the trigger. He stopped and thought, "I am not going to shoot him, I will not be a murderer and kill an innocent man." Yet somehow, his finger lingered on the trigger and hesitantly pulled down. "Bam!" The man then lay on the ground, lifeless, and still. Rainsford stopped, frozen. Paralyzed by what he had done, he could not move and his mind went blank. As he stood there staring at the body, blood swirled all around him like a hurricane inside his body. At first this feeling frightened him. It was like having a bullet being shot through your heart. He then realized that he liked it. It was a like a high. It exhilarated him, and gave him such a sense of satisfaction. He thought that now he was the most superb hunter, for he has hunted the most dangerous game.

As Rainsford sat in the den of the monstrous mansion he pondered what his life would be like. He wondered about what happened to Whitney and later assumed that he was dead after the shipwreck he had later encountered. Oddly, even though they had been friends for many years prior, he didn’t care that he was probably dead. He barely valued human life at all now. He had become General Zaroff. He was a savage. He seemed to always have a chip on his shoulder. It was a terrible storm that night. The thunder practically screamed at him as the lightning begged for his attention. But his mind was not on the storm but instead was thinking about what he would do for entertainment next. “Boom!” The thunder roared as Rainsford stayed up all night drinking his fancy Cayuga Swedish wine and thinking about the future.

That morning as Rainsford peered through his window, he noticed a small boat, about the size of a large car. As it neared closer to the island Rainsford decided he would play the game with this silly captain that has arrived on the deserted, eerie island. He lured the sailor into the dead middle of the island by an obvious trail he had created. As the man reached the end of the trail he had a puzzled look on his face. Rainsford did not see his face though and was only shown his backside, as Rainsford stalked him to the middle of the island.

“Don’t move!” Rainsford commanded. The man’s eyes moved up cautiously until they looked straight ahead, opposite direction of Rainsford. “You wouldn’t dare kill me.” Uttered the man in a terrified, hoarse, and haunted voice. Rainsford actually considered not shooting the man. As he thought about giving the man a chance, the addiction kept creeping back, gnawing at his soul, refusing to let go and he suddenly snapped out it. A shot rang through the jungle rich island, and the limp, weak, lifeless body fell to the ground. As Rainsford walked over to the body, to carry it away and admire his trophy, he looked at the face and fell to his knees. He had become sane again for just a few minutes as he recognized the paper white face. Two tears raced down his face and dropped of his chin into the cold wet dirt that lay beneath him. He had murdered Whitney.

The horrified expression was now gone form his face. Whitney looked to be asleep now. Rainsford could have believed it if not for all of the blood. How can so much blood come from one body? The holes in his skin told of a messy end. After the second shot he was already dead. That's what a bullet to the brain will do. The scene spoke of rage and regret. Rainsford couldn’t deal with the horrifying scene that lay in front of him. He decided the body was to be abandoned on the cold, wet ground now stained with red. Away from the body, the evidence, and his insanity Rainsford walked.

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