Trying & Dying-- Dystopian Short Story 'The Hunger Games' contest entry

Short Story-

 “Now let's welcome,” the host paused to read the name written in small scraggly print on the note card he held, “Jerelin Vindere to the stadium!” Clapping, whistling and hooting echoed throughout the game arena. A beautiful girl, Jerelin, confidently stomped out onto the navy blue platform where the host instructed her to stand. She had been waiting for this day for a long time, and she knew exactly how it was going to play out. She had gone through countless strategies and plans for the past five years with her best friend, Melanie, who just happens to be the queen of cleverness and plotting. Jerelin had knotted her belly-button length hair into a high pony at the back of her head, to keep it out of the way during her challenge. Her signature green and silver anklet weapon was hanging loosely around her ankle, reflecting bright rays from the television spotlights into the audience.

  “Welcome, Jerelin! We haven't got much time so let's get down to it. Pick your door!” The energetic host said. Six doors stood in a circle around the girl, each one a different color; yellow, green, blue, orange, pink, and black. Jerelin was ready for this, so with no fear or hesitation, she yelled out her choice in a thick and steady voice.

  “Door five, please!” The dull orange, steel door creaked and opened to reveal an entirely blackened room which Jerelin immediately sprang into.

  She searched around for a light switch or anything else to help her see, without any helpful results, she quickly took off her anklet and whispered 'caesa' which was the Latin word meaning 'were killed' that activated it. The anklet produced the sound of a blade being pulled out of a sheath as it grew to twice the size and as the edges sharpened into a circular and deadly steel knife. Jerelin put herself in an offensive stance towards the silent darkness when the door shut behind her. She could feel the video cameras stalking her from above, but she never heard the whir of their movement.

  “Aah!” Jerelin shrieked when blinding white lights suddenly beat down on her from above. To her right was a wall made entirely of glass mirror, the same to her left, back, and forward. The right mirror made her appear as a tall and skinny version of her tan and confident self. The left mirrors showed her as a short and plump little troll. The mirror ahead showed no reflection at all. The floor was an impenetrable concrete material. Jerelin, thinking maybe something was lying behind the mirrors, whipped around in a circle and threw the disc blade towards the mirror at a lethal speed and with perfect accuracy. The mirror didn't shatter, but stood still. Before she could even think about ducking, Jerelin impulsively shielded her face with her hands and caught the blade as it bounced off the surface of the mirror and back at her.

She grumbled and winced in pain, then got herself together as she deactivated the blade and ripped off her belt to make a tourniquet for her now heavily bleeding palms. Jerelin searched around the room, looking desperately in every nook and cranny for any sign of a way out.

  “Aha!” Jerelin had found a small crack in the shape of an oval, down in the floor. She thought that it might symbolize a doorknob and tried to dig her fingernails into the spaces in the crack and then began to turn it. All she had to do was move it a millimeter and the floor gave way beneath her and dissolved into nothing. She looked down to find a large river in some sort of tropical rainforest and got into a diving position while still flying towards the bottom. Finally, she closed her eyes and made her descent into the water, slipping, at what seemed like a thousand miles per hour, into the river. She was a needle pulling thread, weaving in and out of the water, when she finally swam to land. As she surveyed her surroundings, her mouth pulled into a grin and she sprang into action.

  “Caesa!” The anklet transformed into its familiar blade shape and Jerelin threw it behind her without even looking to see where she was throwing it. “Gross,” she remarked, when she heard the gurgling noise of struggled breathing with a throat full of blood behind her. She pulled her blade out of the assassin's stomach and then threw it again at the two more advancing towards her, with the speed of a cheetah.