Writer Games: Pending Secrets

Task Three - Dancing with the Dead - Male Entries

Peter Mask

He could feel the gentle shift of the Earth underneath his body, but didn't pay any attention to it. After the beating that Alecks had given him, his whole being felt as if it was on fire, relentlessly tormenting him. Dried blood still stained the area around his nose, for every time Peter tried to wipe it off his nose became too painful to touch. Thus, he just leaned back against a grey cement wall, listening to the rhythmical rumbling around him. He had no idea what was happening – most likely, the Gamemakers were going to spring something up on the tributes once more, while all he wanted to do was close his eyes and fall asleep. At least, when he was asleep, the darkness could surround him and make him forget about the horrors he'd experienced.

Melody dying.

District Thirteen left in smithereens.

The water running crimson with the blood of the fallen – including one he had killed himself. Alecks Glint.

He didn't know what to think about killing Alecks. At least, not yet. His mind was still whirling, his heart still pounding, and all those factors combined made it near impossible to think clearly and create a plan of action of any sort. Somewhere deep inside of his mind, Peter knew that he really shouldn't be lying around without any weapon, but whenever he tried to move, his muscles screamed out in protest. Sighing, Peter looked out across the barren grey room and outside the force field, only for his eyes to widen when he saw that the ocean was subsiding at an unnatural rate back down into the earth, disappearing beneath the dirt.

"God," he managed to mumble, even though that one word made him wince. "I can never catch a break, can I?"

Outside, the waves only rumbled in reply.

Groaning softly, Peter managed to heave himself up, though with great difficulty. Once standing, he stumbled dangerously for a few seconds, until the boy managed to steady himself against the jagged surface of the walls. He stayed there, trying to calm his beating heart, as he waited for the deep, dark waves to finish subsiding to reveal whatever challenge he would be facing.

Turns out, Peter Mask did not have to wait long.

~

At first it seemed like a dust cloud, roaring in vast quantities across the barren landscape that used to be the sea. The drastic change boggled Peter's mind, and only served as another cold reminder that the Gamemakers held the reins – they had the power to substantially change his world with a snap of their fingers.

However, when the supposed "cloud" thinned out towards the bottom of the building, Peter could see that it wasn't a cloud at all, but a horde of stumbling human figures of different ages and gender.

Who are they? He moved closer to where the force field used to be – but now it was nothing but dusty air – trying to get a closer look. He was on the first floor, but none of the strange people had seen him yet. They were all milling about aimlessly, staggering this way and that underneath the heat of the boiling sun above. He squinted, being careful to stay in the shadows of the walls, trying to get a good look at their faces. Are they dangerous? Why are they here?

He was still pondering these thoughts when suddenly, a high-pitched shriek cut through the humid air. Almost simultaneously, all the staggering figures snapped their heads towards where the sound had come from. Peter's eyes widened as he saw a tanned skinned tribute – a woman – try and make a run for the outside world. She wielded a sword, but was obviously untrained in the field of combat, for her arms were pretty much sagging underneath the weight of the weapon as she tried to run. Her steps were slow as well, which Peter guessed was because of her pregnancy – her baby bump was visible underneath her clothing, and all at once he had a sudden desire to jump into action and try and help the woman. But no, that would be idiotic. He couldn't reveal himself – not yet. So the boy huddled closer against the wall, watching with a mixture of curiosity and fear at the events unfolding before him.