Cheap Gothic Soap Opera, Part 42

Elizabeth pushed the door. It wasn't locked, so it opened.

"Um, excuse me," she said to the peasants, "the door's not locked. You are free."

A short, portly woman named Brunhilda, who was the town midwife and geese-slayer, waddled up to her. "What ya mean, you cockinbobbins!"

"You can all go back to your homes now and live your lives."

"This dungeon 'as been our 'ome it 'as since the 3rd winter of the eighth full moon of 1679 when ol' Winthrop Collins threw our 'ole village in this 'ere prison. Completely forgot about us 'e did, so we been living 'ere ever since."

Elizabeth looked up and suddenly noticed the expanse of mud cottages and goat farms that were inside the dungeon. It was funny how she hadn't noticed it before. Brunhilda was turning around to leave when Elizabeth tapped her on the shoulder.

"Wait! Can you tell me anything about this master that Bob has been talking about?"

Brunhilda's eyes darted back and forth. "Oh," she laughed suspiciously, "ol' Bob's probably been fillin' your 'ead with those silly tales again 'e 'as. Loony as a dingbatterwomber 'e 'is. I got to go now." She pushed Elizabeth out of the dungeon. Through the grating on the door, Elizabeth could see her with utmost fear in her eyes, dragging a sheep carcass to a giant statue of Gornibas Collins along with all the other villagers.

"Oh well," Elizabeth thought, "I've got to find out who wrote that note in my pocket, and where my finger has gone." She began to walk down a long hallway...

(OP: Nate, February 27 2007)