June 2000 Story Challenge: Iolaus must rescue the damsel in distress in 500 words or less (harder than it sounds)
“Don’t move,” Iolaus said, trying to force the words past the knot of fear in his throat. “I’m coming to get you.”
“This can‘t be happening,” he thought to himself as he cautiously stepped onto the rickety planks that comprised the bridge. But there he was, doing it all again. Very carefully, skirting the rottenest boards as best he could, he made his way out to the girl who was clinging to the ropes in terror.
“Let go of the rope.” The familiarity of the words haunted him. “Give me your hand.”
“I can’t,” she whispered frantically, her brown eyes full of fear.
“Yes, you can,” Iolaus said gently. “Trust me.” He tried desperately not to think about the last woman in this situation that had trusted him. Even to this day, he still could not forget her face as she slipped out of his grasp and fell to her death. Taking a deep breath, he forced the memory out of his mind, determined that history would not be repeating itself.
Slowly, he stretched out his hand and placed it over the white knuckles that were clenching the rope for all they were worth. “It’s all right, I’ve got you,” he assured her. “Don’t look down. Look at me.” The girl met his blue eyes, full of strength and courage, and she knew that she could trust him. “Now let go of the rope.” Hesitantly, her fingers uncoiled from the bridge and twined around his.
“Good,” he encouraged. “Now the other one. I promise you that I won’t let you fall.” As she complied with his instructions, Iolaus gripped her tightly around the waist and they began moving back. It seemed like an eternity of slow, deliberate steps, but finally they reached solid ground. As the hunter let out a breath that he didn’t even know he’d been holding, he turned to the girl who had begun sobbing hysterically and pulled her into his arms, hoping that she didn’t notice how badly he was shaking. He held her and comforted her until she quieted.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Here I’m falling apart and you weren’t even scared at all, were you?”
“Who, me?” he asked with an impish grin, extending a hand to help her up. Iolaus couldn’t help feeling like a weight had been lifted from him. A part of him would always feel guilty about the woman that he couldn’t save, no matter how hard Hercules had tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault. But by saving this girl, he had somehow avenged her. And his success also helped drive away the self-doubt he had plagued himself with ever since the accident.
Also flush with success, in the realm of immortal invisibility, a goddess watched the scene she’d arranged with more than a passing interest.
“Way to go, Iolaus,” Fortune said to herself, happy that she had finally set things right. “I knew you could do it.”
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