The Gate

         The first thing Butch did was sit up it turned out to be a very bad idea, and he was violently ill. Then, he stood up and looked around. He was a a dimly lit cell there were candles in the corner but, they were burning low. In another corner there was a curled up old man.

       Butch went up to him and shook his sholder....nothing. He shook the man harder he then fell over revealing that his throat was slit.

"Help!" he yelled a little to loud

"Don't bother boy." a voice said

"Who are you?" Butch asked

"Does it really matter?" The stranger said

"Well I just wanna know" said Butch innocently

"Fine I'll give you the grand title." Tthe old man said clearing his throat

"A man that everyone once known but now, an exile a old name uttered only in wispers and records." the voice said with a long sigh

"Where are we?" Butch said quizzicly

"The basment dungeons of a lunesta, dominis Optis rules us. He is a famos gladiator trainor."

"I've heard of him wasn't he arrested years ago?"

"An old rumor he still rules the area."

"Will he train me?" Butch asked in a hopeful voice.

"Most likely, or you will become one of his pleasers."

"Pleasers?"

"You don't want to be one."

"Will he attend me soon?" He asked hopefully

"Most likely tomorrow."

"I hope to become a gladiator very much."

With that he turned over and fell asleep almost instantly in the hay in the middle on his cell.

"Silly boy they get younger every year" The old man said  chuckling  while sharpening his knife, stolen from the armorey, with a smile.