ριcкℓє∂ ємєяαℓ∂
2008-12-14 03:20:49 UTC
I'm considering re-writing that part so that he doesn't die. That way my main male character will have a foe. Don't you agree?
Well here's the part where my main male kills him:
Suddenly, the large metallic door opened. Gaspard froze. ‘Juden, halt!’. Gaspard clicked his heels, and stood motionless where he was. ‘What are you up to, Jew?’ I recognised the voice, but I couldn’t quite make out who it was. ‘I am on kitchen duty, sir!’
‘Then why are you out here, fumbling along the wall?’ The voice was laced with a sly perseverance that chilled me to my core. ‘You are trying to escape, aren’t you.’
‘No.’ Gaspard basically growled. ‘Ha! My first escapee.’ The voice exclaimed, rising in excitement. ‘And you got so far, too... One question though. How on Earth did you know about the secret entrance. Only we superiors know that, and you,’ he chuckled, ‘are certainly no superior.’ What was that voice? I just couldn’t put my finger on it. My heart was beating in my chest, sweat dripping off my forehead as my anxiety grew. ‘Oh you really have made my day... No, my WEEK!’ he clapped. ‘Now that I have stopped this potentially successful escape attempt, I am sure to be promoted to kommandant!’ Gaspard stood stationary, his hands straight by his side, his posture defensive. ‘You stupid, stupid Jew. So close to escape, and yet so far. I will make sure they keep you alive a long time in bunker 5.’ He slapped Gaspard across the face, and I heard him draw his whip. ‘But I’m going to have a little fun first.’
Suddenly I heard a commotion, a struggle, but I didn’t dare reveal my hiding place. ‘You stupid, German!’ There came a loud groan and more commotion. I rushed out, desperate not to seem a wimp. I didn’t want Jan to remember me as the girl that cowered while her fellow escapee suffered. To my shock, I saw Gaspard on top of the German, punching him over and over. I was consumed with an urge to help with the frenzied attack, and ran around to the German’s side. It was then that I realised who it was. Maczko, the kommandant’s son. His white hair was splattered with blood. He was desperately trying to fend off the raining punches, but was powerless compared to Gaspard’s strength. Gaspard removed something from his shoe, and it glinted in the light. A small knife. ‘You won’t ever be kommandant.’ He said, his voice heavy with hate, before effortlessly sliding the knife into Maczko’s abdomen. He screamed in pain, but Gaspard muffled the screams. After a few minutes, the struggles ceased.
‘Help me.’ Gaspard grunted between breaths, lifting up Maczko’s legs. I hoisted up his arms, and Gaspard backed into the crevice. He slumped Maczko up into a sitting position, his blood vibrantly red upon his pale skin. ‘Come one.’ Gaspard said, wiping sweat and blood from his forehead. ‘We haven’t much time.’ He wiped his hands on his pants, and began feeling along the wall once more. I inspected the scene of the crime. Blood was splattered on the floor and on the walls, barely visible in the dim lighting, and a small pool of blood rested where Maczko had taken his last breath.
Should I make it so he didn't really die? Or just re-write it completely so that this scene never happened.