The Hunger Games (Writing Contest) [CLOSED]

Asher's Version of Events

↠↠↠dragon_mind ↞↞↞

Time was something I so desperately needed but, at the same time, the one thing I couldn't have.

Its quite ironic, really. I had everything at my fingertips just minutes ago, and now I don't have even the simplest of human desires.

There are four options. Four sets of problems and advantages. Four ways to die. Depends on how you look at it, I suppose. But I don't really have the time to think about it so we'll just say four directions.

In the north, or maybe fifteen yards ahead of me, was the fabled Cornucopia. The place where nightmares come to life and life becomes a nightmare. Pleasant. I'd take a vacation there. Too bad all the hotel rooms are booked. I could see a beautiful and flashy set of knives and daggers from my spot on the pedestal. I guess I'll have to go somewhere else for vaca. A shame.

In the south, or behind me, was an open plain of tall grasses. A few trees dotted the landscape here and there but no big plant life was present. It looked peaceful but there wasn't any water, and as I'm from District Four, that was a huge no-no.

To the west and east, or either side of me, was an expanse of thick foliage and trees. I could only see a couple yards into the east before it became a blur of greens and splashes of browns from behind the thick moss. It was a dark jungle. The west was friendlier. It was a soft green and more tree trunks were bare. It was a bright and airy forest. The catch? I could hear water to the east.

Five seconds before the tributes were released, I made my decision. I was gonna run to the jungle like all of hell's demons were chasing me. And then our time ended and I couldn't rethink my choice anymore.

My long legs stretched and snapped, sending my body rocketing past the tributes on every side of me. My feet ate up the yards and the distance between me and the trees' safety was getting shorter and shorter. Elated at the feeling of running (it is quite a lot like the feeling a good swim gives you), I grinned and whooped, prancing around like a kid again.

That is, until the sounds of battle commenced.

The screams. They'll haunt me forever. Every screech was wordless but they all told a story. The ones ripped from dry throats were harsh and high-pitched in fear and pain. They said, "Somebody! Anybody! Help me!"

The rage and battle cries were low and guttural, erupting from deep in the stomach. They said, "I will win. Nothing but death can stop me."

And then the ripping of skin and the clash of metal on bone. It was enough to give you chills. Splashes of blood sloshed on the dusty earth, painting the brown and crumbling canvas red.

I suddenly didn't feel like a kid anymore. The excited grin slipped off my face and instead of prancing on light feet, I ran with heavy steps. I pushed on in somber silence.

Clouds began gathering in the south. It'll rain in a couple of hours, washing away the remains of the battle. It'll take away the stains and smooth over the ruts in the ground but I doubt that one person left alive in the arena will be able to glance at that clearing again without the memory of the sounds, sights, and smells assaulting them.

I refused to look back again and continued on, shoulders haunched forward as though I am protecting myself from the horrors happening behind me.

I slipped through the trees and the jungle enveloped me. As soon as I stepped past the protective line of guarding trees, the battle noises vanished. The jungle totally covered up the wild rush of the battle with its calm hush like I had crossed an invisible barrier, blocking out everything on the outside.