The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

Stereotypical Hollywood Scam: Females

Emily Andersen – United States Of America

Japan. My parents met in  Japan. Something about natural disasters and sushi really fucking  turned them on. I was getting sick of this, traveling to different  countries, magically, just for the Games. I almost regret volunteering.  Almost.

"Alek, where is we?" Pip  directed the question towards Alek, ignoring me. I frowned, then rolled  my eyes. Just because I left out the fact that I had a boyfriend, he  was fucking pissed off. I guess I'd be pissed too.

I decided to be spiteful. "Where are we, Pip. That is correct grammar."

Pip whipped around, glaring. "I did not ask you."

"I told you anyway."

"I did not ask you."

"You are repeating yourself."

"I do not care."

"Well you should."

"Well I don't."

"Sucks to be you."

"Why are you mean?"

"I am not mean! You're being fucking ridiculous!"

"Yes, you is mean."

"Use proper grammar."

"Okay! Stop! Now!"  Alek's voice caused our mouths to clamp shut. "Just stop. We already  lost Clarissa. We cannot afford for you two to fight. Just stop." A long  string of Russian swear words followed his words, as he took another  sip from the bottomless flask.

Rain was falling  steadily from the clouds that darkened the skies. "We've simply... gone a  little Hollywood is all." Hollywood in Japan. Only in the Hunger Games.  Blowing a chunk of blonde hair out of my rain soaked eyes, I sighed.

Pushing the boots off my  feet, I put my feet into the water to my left. "Emily, put your shoes  on." I mimicked, not bothering to look behind me at the people I was  talking to. "You're going to catch a cold. You're- holy fucking shit."

Great. The moment I  trust the water enough to dip my feet in, this happens. I don't even  have enough time to scramble away when the wave crashes down on me. The  pressure is enough to choke me, and I curl into a ball, every bone in my  body feeling shattered. I open my mouth to shout, but another wave  crashes down.

I choke, the water  slowly building in my lungs. A giant tree floated pass me, the leaves  ripped off in the storm. Flailing my arms out, I grab the trunk,  coughing out the water that is coating my throat. Bright red liquid  stains the tree. I see a hand, and then a dark chunk of hair. Bright  blue eyes.

"Emily..." The figure moans, his eyes closing slightly. "Help me."

I swalloweing as he  struggled. "Jace, it will be fine. You'll be fan-fucking-tastic. I  promise." I added the last part hastily, biting my lip. A deep gash  etched itself into his forehead, and only one arm supported him. The  other hung limply.

Yet another wave came  bashing down on us, and I clung to the tree like it was the only thing I  had. Which it kind of was. Expect for the Fall Out Boy ticket I had  protected in a thin sheet of glass in my back pocket. When I opened my  eyes again, Jace had vanished from the trunk. "Fuck." I muttered,  punching the branch with the only ounce of energy I had left.

I had promised him I'd keep him safe. I didn't mean it, but I promised him.

And now he was dead.

Typical Hollywood drama.

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Megan Clarke – New Zealand

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