When he selected my costume for the evening, I never imagined that he planned to kill me with a sword. How cool is that?
Already chained up in one of the Resort’s North Tower subterranean dungeons awaiting his arrival, I watched the masked vacation club member smiling at the horrifying realization in my eyes
as he walked in carrying that ancient sword. Thanks to my Resort companion indoctrination, I recognized his sword as a ninth-century Saxon short sword. Primarily used as a thrusting weapon,
the lower edge of its blade is also razor-sharp for use in a more traditional role as a brutal slashing weapon.
Stopping directly in front of where I was helplessly standing, he casually mentioned, “Ann, tonight I intend to run you through multiple times with this sword and enjoy the delightful sound
of your desperate screams. I plan to twist the blade slowly within your guts so that with each thrust, making you scream in fresh unbearable agony for my darkly sadistic amusement.”
I could see the familiar look of evil anticipation in his hooded eyes as he continued, “I spoke with one of the Resort’s professional torturers this afternoon. He assured me that as long as I
showed restraint when twisting this blade within your guts, Ann, you should remain conscious for at least thirty minutes to an hour before bleeding out. Just before that moment arrives, I promise
one final thrust of my sword, angling upward through your diaphragm and deep into your chest to fatally pierce your heart.”
My final thought, just moments before that razor-sharp sword’s cold steel blade slipped effortlessly through my guts, “Even the cruelest, most sadistic Vacation Club members often promise to do
the nicest things to you...”