Hello everyone. I did this one project for English and thought I should post it here. It’s basically how the the short story, “The Most Dangerous Game,” should have ended. Hope you enjoy.
Director’s Cut: The Most Dangerous Game
By: Hassan W. Osman
As Rainford awoke from slumber, bright beams of light shined through the curtains of Zaroff’s bedroom. These beams of light were a sign of grace from the storm that was diverted. Rainsford, however, did not see these moments of grace as a time to relax, but rather as a moment to leave the wretched island. Rainsford got up from the bed, moving his head quickly in order to survey the room for any new threats. Although there were none in the room, he did not forget about the dogs outside. Rainsford looked through the window and saw that the pack of dogs were now half sleeping, given up on the hope of their master’s return. Rainsford then searched through a cabinet in the room, a cabinet that was made from a dark mahogany, with a streak of gold around its sides. He found a .22 pistol, and although it wasn’t a large gun, it could be used to take out any other threats on the island.
Rainsford then made his way to the basement of the large mansion, where he believed that the rest of the innocent sailors stayed. As he opened the door to the basement, he could only see a dark veil covering the room, much like the veil of darkness that covered him while he was on the yacht. There was a pungent smell coming from the room that was the smell of death, fear, and a failed chance of escape. The smell was so powerful that upon the first wiff of it, Rainsford stepped back from the doorway and began coughing violently. He then covered his nose, and went into the darkness. He was looking for the prisoners, yet doing so was the equivalent of searching for a black ant, in a black cave, during a black night – impossible. His hands were patting the wall in order to search for a light switch. After spending an hour looking for a switch, he found one and immediately turned it on.
“Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord. Control yourself Rainsford! Do not lose it now, not after everything! Control yourself Rainsford! Do not lose it now, not after everything! Nerve! Nerve! Nerve!” Rainsford was in shock. Although Zaroff was dead, it was as if he foresaw his fate, and had one more trap for his prey.
At that point, what was left of Rainsford’s innocence and sanity was destroyed in a second that felt like a century. What he saw was innocent Spanish sailors who had great rusty chains around their neck in order to hold them in place, yet there was no longer a need of that. The men were dead, and even more so they were missing most of their limbs. Upon closer inspection, Rainsford saw that there were patches of skin in between the teeth of the men, evidence that they were forced to eat themselves. While Zaroff ate from the garden of Eden, and drank from the finest of champagnes, these innocent men ate like savages and dogs. Although the room was lifeless, Rainsford felt as if demons surrounded him, celebrating their recent kill.
Despite Rainsford being a man of civilization, chivalry, and honor, he knew he would never be able to forget such an event, not only because of the deaths he witnessed, but because he recalls a time when he was General Zaroff. A time where he killed animals, not out of necessity, but out of sport. A time where he killed mothers, fathers, and children; the parents of future generations of thousands of animals.
“I’ve only witnessed the evil of my hunting when I was hunted. I’ve only experienced fear after being chased into a corner. I’ve only regretted my actions after I’ve been the recipient of them. Now, I will only experience death after seeing what I’ve done to thousands of other souls, souls that only wanted to survive, love, and do their other things,” Rainsford muttered, with a hint of wanting to give restitution to the innocent creatures he had stripped their lives of.
In that moment, a pistol shot could be heard on that island, but this time there was no sign of a living human. Rather, one could see a spirit on that island, one risen by a false pride, that congratulated itself on its success: killing someone without the need of committing the action. Finally, Zaroff’s spirit felt forever entertained by his most brilliant hunt.