The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

An Image Is Worth A Thousand Words: Aleksandr Privet

ALEKSANDR ENTRY WORLD

Alek did not know what  new continent he had been moved to, he didn't even look around him to  check. Why? Simply because he did not care.

The moment he landed, it  felt as though he were one half of a magnet, being uncontrollably drawn  towards the other. This grand building before him, Alek had never seen  before. 'Le Louvre' - it was called... it whispered to him. "Come in."

Aleksandr followed. He  mounted the steps; he pushed open the double doors and walked the long  corridor. Looking back now, he was sure other artwork lay around him but  at the time none of that mattered for, at the very end of this grand  room, a dull looking picture was nailed to the wall - it had no flowery  details or rich golds and reds like everything else in this room, in  fact it was quite ugly... yet, it beckoned him.

Turn around Alek, his  mind warned and despite knowing he should...he simply could not. He  moved closer; and in an instant the once blurry black and white image  became painstakingly clear. This picture, this photograph, this torture!  It burned his eyes, it planted itself to his eyelids so that even when  he closed his eyes to sleep, there it would be taunting his every  thought.

The game makers were cruel... very cruel.

The paintings name was  'The Empty Cradle'... and in those three words, Alek's life was summed  up, torn down and thrown in every direction possible. To anyone else,  perhaps the outline of the cradle would have been barely visible, the  wooden curves Alek had carved himself, the tree that always bloomed  swaying outside the window... oh god, it all brought back so much to  him.

He remembered pulling  the cradle to that window for a reason, it was the only tree in the  whole neighbourhood that kept it's beauty all year round, it was the  only place the sun always seemed to shine and from the moment his little  Rose had been born he had promised her the world and so, he would start  by giving her the sun each morning. Pathetically, Alek reached out to  touch the picture - it did nothing to help.

Memory after memory of  his little Rose bombarded his brain - the way her big old eyes would  light up at the sight of her father looking down at her, the way her  blonde tuffs of hair would just cover her tiny head, the way she would  laugh with her fathers signature smile... the same smile that could  light up a room shrouded in darkness - but most of all, the way she  would look up to him with nothing but unconditional love.

And now, because he had not been there sooner, she was dead.

Alek whimpered and now  had both hands on the picture using it to keep himself upright. "I'm so  sorry my Rose," he said, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."

Sorry's not good enough,  Sorry's not good enough! the voice in his head cried out to him - and  it was right, it wasn't enough. What kind of man was he? What kind of  father would do what he had done?

Alek had left everyone  in his life and used even more - he had become an alcoholic, he had  murdered children in this damn Hunger Games and he had done it all with a  bitter smile. His father was right; Aleksandr was useless. Everyone  could create and preserve life, right? It was human 101... yet Alek had  managed to destroy it.

The Empy Cradle embodied The Empty Man.

Aleksandr's hands went  to his neck, to find his vodka flask but when he found nothing, he  remembered - he had lost it in the earthquake. He began to panic; it was  the only thing that kept the judgemental voices at bay and now he was  running on empty, their dull whispering was becoming louder by the  second.

'You're useless!' said one.

'Murdered!' screamed another.

'It's your fault your daughters dead! It's your-'

Alek couldn't deal with  it anymore; he shouted out and began to tear at the picture, shredding  it piece by piece from the wall. He was in a blind range, an angry  savage attack was pouring from him - he couldn't stop, he had to get rid  of it this was too much! He couldn't cope, he couldn't-

"Woah, Alek! Calm the  fuck down!" Emily said, trying to restrain him by grabbing his  shoulders. He shoved her off and continued his rampage.

"Facile, Alek, facile!" said Pip also coming to stop him.

In the end, it took the  both of them to hold him back and when they had Aleksandr felt his  strength leave him and he broke down in ugly sobs. The force of them  shaking his shoulders and making it hard for him to catch his breath. No  one spoke to him for quite some time - no one dared.

He was a broken man.

"Alek," said Pip cautiously. "Do you want to talk?" Aleksandr shook his head, so Pip pushed again..."Are you sure? It might-"

Alek's voice was sharp. "I said nyet, Pip."

Another pause and then  Emily spoke, her voice was softer. "Your daughter?" More tears fell from  Alek's face - so she knew now, so the entire world knew...Alek nodded  weakly. It took a few moments but, slowly he felt both Pip and Emily put  there arms round him however Alek flinched away from them and stood up,  brushing himself down.

He didn't deserve their  sympathies...and Alek realised, in that very second that he no longer  wanted to win this Hunger Games. How could he turn to the two people  behind him and murder them for a title? Aleksandr had given up on  himself, but he would do everything in his power to get Emily and Pip  out of this alive.