The Great Game (2019)

14

The afternoon light is a faint shadow of yellow. It paints strokes of gold against my skin, my hair as I stand within the circle of weak light.

Everyone else has drifted away from me and they converse in their small groups. I slide my hands in my pockets, trying not to look lonely among the group of groups.

"Hey everyone. Sorry for my tardiness." Today, Death's hair is short and cropped. His smile is tight as he weaves his way towards the eight of us, a rolled up sheet scrunched in his hand.

"Where are the spectators?" One of the girls ask.

The expression on Death's face sours. "I decided to do away with them. Seems to me that they do more damage than good."

"Are the games still on, then?" The same girl continues promptly.

"Oh yeah. I would just rather do it withiut the public's judgemental eye." Death sniffs as he motions for us to gather in a furcle around him. When we do, he spreads the blue sheet in his hand across the floor.

It's a map showing the lay of the land around us- tall dark buildings that spring from the ground and tower over. They cast flakly shadows against the floor and they filter the sun's straining light.

"What will we be doing this time?" A boy calls out.

With a teasing smile- the first genuine one since his appearance, Death replies. "We're gonna start some fires."

***

I'm staring out at the world. It's a grey landscape and ash and dust swirl like thunderclouds. From here, I can see the other seven contestants- they're pacing in nervous circles, their eyes darting like rats scuttling hurriedly.

I'm oddly calm. The restrained breeze wipes my face and I lean against the corroding railings that is the only barrier to prevent my fall.

Standing in the middle of it all, watching the world from below, is Death. Her gaze seems to glaze right over me as she calls out to her staff. Each one of them emerge from the shadows, hands full with a jar of gasoline and a lighter. Their appearance seems to stain the earth some more, dirtying the greying ground that is already caked with mud.

I can feel a storm coming. Not the type of storm that sweeps you off your feet and calls for endless hours of rain. The type where you know trouble is looming, and you'll be the in the middle of it all. It's almost like being in the eye of the storm, except things aren't as calm as it seems.

For our second game, we have to make out of burning buildings alive. While I don't quite understand the direction Death is taking with this game, I don't mind it. I want to see the competition grilled, filled with regret about their false accusations against me.

Or maybe I just want to see the world burn.

I don't know what to trust anymore. I can't tell if Death is lying to my face or if he's playing sick, twisted games. It's difficult to tell if the person who kissed you is also a murderer. If the person who has a touch like fire and a gaze like ice is a pathological liar.

I stare numbly as one of the staff members begins to pour gasoline around my building. I watch as he disappears from the area outside and footsteps echo within the building, a shadow of his approach. I can smell the gasoline from outside, sticking to the floor and painting the walls.

I don't know if I'm going to survive.

I'm just about to consider jumping off when my world is engulfed in flames. All around me are bursting colours of orange and yellow and the thick, rancid odour of smoke clings to the air.

I start running.

I head to the door by the room and kick it open. I'm met with flames pouring down the corridor and the heat laps over me like a clumsy tidal wave. I dash back inside the room and scan it, before catching sight of the piping that lines the unstable infrastructure.

I throw a kick at the cracking pipes and it breaks, giving way to a weak drip of water. I tug my collar just below the slow whimper of the water and let it turn my fabric moist, before pulling it over my nose and mouth.

I head back to the corridor outside where burning hues of yellow are eating at the walls. They dance, dangerous stars that blaze and burn. I choke back a gasp and slip through the narrow valley of floor which the fire hasn't eaten up yet. I can feel the heat being trapped within the haurs of my skin, as it blurs the line of my vision.

Someone screams but it isn't me.

Or I'm sure it wasn't me.

Pillars of smoke swell around me, trying to submerge me with their choking, grey ropes but I'm moving too fast for them to catch me. There's a whiff of singed clothes and hair in the air, and it's a weight on my shoulders the way it is for the air, sinking heavily.

I think I see an exit, through the clouds of smoke. Hot, rich flames explode all around me as I race for it, but someone pulls me back.

I'm thrown to the floor and I scream as a ravine of fire rages between me. My vision swims with tears and hot colours, but through it all, I make out a blurred figure, a long, dark leg.

Stars explode in my eyes as someone brings his feet down on my face. I open my mouth to scream but blood fills the passage and my voice drowns out as a coppery taste fills my cheeks. I can feel the sticky substance, snaking down my face and dribbling down my chin. My mouth is full of blood- I'm choking on my blood.

The world starts to tilt. Maybe it's the flames, wrapping around me that makes the oscillation believable. It warps my vision and I can feel the heat beginning to trap me, a wire mesh of humidity that swarms like an angry flock of bees.

I want to sob but my airways is filling with blood. I don't even know how I'm breathing through it all, when I can feel the liquid spreading across my face like a thin sheet, ready to suffocate.

A scream dies in my throat, strangulated by the blood and the burning lights around me start to melt.

Beads of white start to wink out of view and I force my lips into a wrinkled curve.

I guess it's funny.

Who would have thought that a person could die twice?

Word Count: 1130

END OF BOOK ONE