The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

Welcome To Hell(Vetica): Males

Malcolm Crews - Canada

DID NOT HAND IN.

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Conner Stansfield - United States Of America

  I was in the Hunger  Games. The reality still hasn't quite set in for me yet. I had spent the  past two years obsessing over the books, and now I was in the Hunger  Games. Hopefully I had seen everything that any Gamemaker could throw at  me. After being in more Writer Games on Wattpad than I could count, I  had seen more than my fair share of arenas.

    I couldn't help but  think that out of all the Writer Games I had been in, I only had four  Victors. I was probably more skilled with writing than I was physically  too. I was screwed. I closed my eyes and muttered a quick prayer. "God,  wherever you are that you allowed this to happen, please let me survive  these Games. Whatever I do to survive, please forgive me. Please..."

     My District, no  Country, Partner tapped me on the shoulder. Emily was nice. We looked  similar too, with our blonde hair and blue eyes. We looked like we were  the stereotypical All-American kids. We were both outside the norm  though. The Canadian Male was finishing his interview. Emily was up  next, I would be right after her. We took the place of District Two.

     I never had good  luck with District Two. Every time I made a tribute for them, granted I  only made two that I actually got to write, died pretty early on. Mason  Quartz died in the Bloodbath and Zeus... I couldn't even remember his  last name, made it to the round after the Bloodbath, only because nobody  handed in the Bloodbath round. It made me feel like I would die even  earlier. That and the fact that every time I made a tribute based off of  myself, they died in the Bloodbath.

    I thought of the  advantage I would have in Writer Games if I did win.  I would probably  be the only person with experience of actually being in the Games.

    I had to deal with  winning before I dealt with that though. I thought of what I would do  for my interview. Emily and I didn't have a mentor, nobody did actually.  So we had to decide by ourselves. I would try to be charismatic, but I  was never a good public speaker. I only sounded confident during my  speech for Sixth Grade Representative because we did those speeches over  the announcements. Every other year I spoke in front of everyone.  Needless to say, I failed.

     I refused to let  myself cry. I reminded myself whose tributes cried every time they were  interviewed, and how much it pissed me off. Plus any tribute that cried  during their interview ended up dying. They were targeted by the strong  tributes, because they were easy prey, and then killed. If I cried in my  interview, I would die. Therefore, I couldn't cry.

     Emily went on  stage. I hoped that she did well. She didn't deserve to die. Nobody did,  but especially not her. I brushed off my black pant legs, then reminded  myself that Tigger. Zoe and Harley weren't here to get hair all over  me. A tiny tear slipped out of my eye. Harley could be having a seizure  right now and I wouldn't even know it. Zoe was probably freaking out,  trying to find me. Tigger was probably just sulking around the house.  That was the difference between cats and dogs.

    I wiped the tear  away. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't cry. The other tributes would see me. I  looked at my reflection in the mirror. My face was deadpan, not showing  and emotion whatsoever. That was good. My bright blue eye had tears  welling up in them. The shirt I had was the same color as my eyes. My  mom, and almost every girl I met always said that my eyes were  beautiful. I remembered when Chloe, Kady, Philicia and Kelsey talked  about the best option to steal my eyes. They eventually decided on one  of those spoons that let the liquids drain, but retained the solids. I  laughed.