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Teaser
The actual contest entry
He ran as fast as his legs would let him. Shinichi knew he could've never trusted all of them. He should've taken heed of their inevitable fate when they awoke to a place unfamiliar and that woman staked to the wall... should've known that the game which they took a liking to would become reality, would become the gamble for their lives...

Clang, clang, clang. The aged walls groaned heavy in protest at the abuse of something large and wieldy. He knew what it could possibly be, but he was too busy running away to even fathom its shape.

"Shiiiniiichi..."

He should've known better than to dismiss the little voice in his head telling him to not meet these people... Shinichi stumbled, tripping on his feet and tumbling into the floor with a disturbing THWACK. He scrambled under the staircase to hide himself... knowing well that it was futile to prolong the consequences of his actions-- or lack thereof.

Clang, clang. Like an eerie metronome the walls groaned faster, louder after the teen had fallen. Shinichi simply pressed himself closer to the shadows, meekly wondering if this would've turned out a bit more positive had Hattori not moved ahead on his own.

"Shiiiniichii... where are you...?"

Creeeeeak, clank. He closed his eyes tightly and held his breath. She'd opened the door leading to the staircase.

Of all the people he wanted to be murdered by, Kudou Shinichi knew his childhood friend Mouri Ran was definitely not one of them.

Shinichi was so f*****d.

When Conan opened his eyes again, he was back in that dark hotel room, the tintinnabulation of raindrops methodically tapping upon the window. He glanced down to the watch at his wrist - 3:33am. As he remembered, he arrived at the room at around 9:00pm; had it seriously been that long? And then he remembered what had knocked him out -- several feet before him was a large tome, cover made of flesh - Conan was sure of that texture - and bound with bone...

Tentatively the tiny detective crawled over to the piece of literature that had given him those odd flashes of images and scenes: a roman centurion reaching out for an odd-shaped artifact; a pageboy shrinking into a rotten husk; a robust englishman locked up in an asylum; a monk becoming nothing but a stain on the floor before a behemoth the not-child had never seen before...

He shakily placed a hand upon the cover and swiftly closed it, using it as a prop to push himself to a stand. As he continued to stare at it, Conan tried to process what the tome of flesh and bone had told him, but could hardly believe any of it. He was a man of logic, and what he had seen was far from logical; that much he knew was true. 'This is what Hattori wanted me to help him with?'

Suddenly, the Detective of the East remembered the last scene the book showed him: a struggle within the hotel room. Screams of pain and desperation. The sickening sound of a sharp item piercing through cloth, flesh, and blood. A heavy thud.

Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared... and Conan's mind was suddenly aware of the shadow that now began to tower over his being.