The Jenga​ executioner

They all felt it, the air becoming thinner with everyone’s intake of breath. They chanted, not her, anyone but her, but it was too late. Sam sauntered in, her strawberry blonde hair swirling with each step.  Please, they chanted, don’t let her see. But, she did, catching one of the player’s eyes with a dazzling smile. Sam edged closer, laughing as she locked eyes with the tower neatly situated at the centre of the table.

“Mind if I join, I love Jenga?” She asked, her gravelly voice grating at the groups ears. In unison they paused, hoping a brave friend would sacrifice themselves for the cause. After an awkward minute of no response, Sam shrugged, sitting down to join the game. As one they sighed, and, within only two rounds, the wooden blocks fell creating a drum melody on the table.

“Aw, that sucks, who’s up for another round?” Sam asked. The table sighed once again.





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