The 8th Writer Games & The Reader Games & Writer Games: The Deadly Decade

Oppa Gladiator Style: Entries

Ursula

The halls of the old  crumbly building we were standing in might be beautiful, but they were  beginning to look like a prison. This wasn't good; no matter what shape a  prison has, it's still a prison.Brielle's voice echoed through the  speakers. "Attention semi-finalists! You have been paired in one on one  fights, deciding who shall be the finalists. Now, these battles have  been randomly determined to make sure nobody has an unfair advantage."

One on one? I couldn't  help but briefly wonder who I was up against, then told myself it didn't  matter. If I let worrying over who I was fighting distract me, or shake  my confidence, I would lose. Down in the final four, I definitely  couldn't afford to waver.

"The first fight shall  be Ursula against Violet!" Brielle announced, and Violet turned to look  at me. She stared me down, nothing but burning hate in her eyes, and I  could tell she wanted revenge on me for attempting to kill her, back in  the final eight. But that suited me well, I had unresolved issues with  this child as well.

This girl, as I couldn't  yet call her a woman, was the bitch who'd killed Roxie. Granted, my  ally and friend hadn't been exactly nice either, and she had to die in  order for me to win anyways, but I resented Violet for stealing her life  anyways. After all, if anybody was going to kill the woman who saved my  life, it would have been me.

Slowly, the two of us  headed into the new arena, a giant worn-down building, filled with  beautiful columns. There was sand at our feet where we fought, though  judging by how old this monument looked; it could easily have been dust,  gathered here for thousands of years, just waiting for this moment.

I heard a loud noise  when I entered, and looked to my right, where thousands of Capitol  viewers were watching live. After a quick count, it was easy to tell  Violet and I were both fan favorites. A rare smile reached my face at  the thought of so many people rooting for me, though knowing so many of  them supporteed what Violet had done sent shivers down my spine. It  would be a hard battle. As much as I disliked her, I had to admit that  the girl had some talent. This battle was all about hoping I had more.

"Oh, there is one more  thing," Brielle announced. "To keep this battle fair, magic has been  forbidden." I gulped, knowing exactly what that meant. What I had been  clinging to, my comfort blanket throught these Games would be taken from  me; I wouldn't be allowed to use my trident. I reached for a dagger  that had been slung to my belt, and pulled it out. Once again, while  admiring my reflection in this makeshift mirror, I was surprised by how  beautiful this form looked.

In truth, my human form  seemed so calm, and quiet, even slightly kind, that it all confused me. I  remembered, earlier throughout the Games, small moments of kindness I  had shown. Kindness that had never gone through me before, almost as if a  different person was acting, controlling my toughts.

The gong sounded,  announcing the beginning of our battle, and I raced to Violet, dagger in  hand. In a way, this was much more than just a fight for survival; it  was a fight against my humanity. This was rebelling against human  nature, which was represented by the girl lying there before me. Though  she didn't necessarily deserve what was coming for her, she was going to  get it.

My feet carried me to  the center of the arena, sand flying. Though the partices of dust in   the air, shown by the blazing sun might seem beautiful, they were a mere  distraction, and a hazard. I couldn't afford getting any of this in my  eye.

Violet tried throwing a  knife at my wrist, though luckily missed, the knife grazing right past  my ear. I raced closer to her,  and we were now in each other's range.  "You can't do anything," she told me. "No matter how hard you try, you  won't win. Just like Roxie." I started to shake, my fist clenching into  balls, yet my heart seemed to hold back a little, for a reason I  couldn't understand.