Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 3 ~ Imogen's Chaotic Tale (IX)

WONDERLAND - 3 

Primarily, what wakes me up is the clap of thunder shaking my skull, egged on by rolling storm clouds. Thoughts are tossed into the air every time the lightning strikes my brain; flashes of white and electric blue glow through my lids - which, by the way, feel swollen shut and I've got no intention of opening them. I also know full well that they're not really swollen, that it's all some made-up figment of my imagination trying to protect me or something psychological like that. Elric was always a sucker for the mind. Speaking of sucker, he's probably suckin' someone off right now, that whore.

Something bitter passes through my system and I open my eyes just to spite myself. I see dirt. I feel dirt. Overall, I'm just dirty. Covered head to foot in grime, in dried mud. The sudden urge to begin picking at every speck of dirt and dust on my skin takes all of my strength to resist, and it certainly doesn't help my headache.

But I also see a door, an elegant door, carved in such a way you'd only expect to see it in the Capitol. But here it is, polished down to a shining pastel purple, all sorts of wild designs weaved over the surface. I sit up and momentarily forget of its existence at the pain that rolls around my head like a slippery ball. It fades, though, and then I'm working my way over to the doorknob, blood encrusted nails drumming the crystalized handle.

Some part of me dreads what'll happen when I turn that knob. I'm not afraid for what's behind it, no, I'm afraid to find it locked. Barred. Nailed shut. Chained. I'm afraid, because if I can't open this door, I'll be stuck here. I'll be confined in this twisted institution, growing old, growing sick, contagious.

I guess that's why I turn the knob with such desperation.

A gasp escapes me when glaring lights meet my eyes and a blast of cold air clamps down on my skin. My feet are in the room before I can really comprehend what exactly I'm stepping into, or what exactly I've done. The fact that it's unlocked is enough to stir me.

Only when my eyes finally adjust to the light do I begin to question if coming here was smart, but by the time I've considered turning back the door has shut, and I'm too uneasy to test the lock again. So I stay, feet buried in a blanket of snow. A body-length mirror sits in the snow across from me.

My reflection refuses to show.

Instead, it's a boy that sits behind the glass, hooking my confusion and reeling it in. I knit my brows together and crane around the frame. He's gotta be behind it, there's no way-

Nothing but snow.

Again, unease creeps through my veins, and I find myself backing to the door. The boy in the mirror, however, offers a warm smile, one that melts away some of the cold. Not metaphorically, either - I see the frozen layers shrinking. My fingers again rest on the knob, but there's something in his soft expression that keeps me from progressing any further. So I wait. C'mon, you creepily nice looking little shit, say something.

The corner of his lip perks up as if he's heard me. Well, at least he's got a sense of humour. But seriously. Say something.

He remains silent, simply staring with that look of his, a look that says he's searching your soul for your weakest and strongest points, learning what to avoid and what to strike. I take this time to really get a better look at him, to pick out everything that makes him look normal, not some concoction of this wild arena. Light brown hair: normal. Lanky build: normal, unless he's from a Career district. Maybe he's a tribute? I never really did care to get a good look at my competition, so maybe it's just another prick aimed to gain my trust before stabbing me in the back.