The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

An Image Is Worth A Thousand Words: Pippino D'Amore

A single picture can  tell a thousand words. I should know that more than any other tribute  here - I've spent my life drawing pictures that might mean so many  things to so many different people. Even the smallest stick drawing, or  the greatest masterpiece, must mean something for everyone. In the world  of art, nothing is insignificant.

My picture - two hands  stretched out across a vast expanse of sunset-stained water - is meant  to get a reaction from me. I fail to see how it will, but even as I view  it without properly thinking, a memory stirs that means the Game-Makers  might actually know what they are doing.

Slowly, I remember that,  somewhere about my person, I still have my sketchbook. The pages are  ruined with water from the tsunami, ripped from various other things and  the whole thing seems to be nearly falling apart. Still, most of the  pictures remain intact and un-smudged, and the one I am looking for  seems almost perfect.

Almost exactly the same  as the picture provided by the Game-Makers, the first drawing in the  book is a simple pencil sketch. It was years ago, but the memories come  flooding back at the sight of both images together - a beach, a sunset, a  couple.

A day at the beach, a  typical day out for Italian children. Alessandro, Maria and I all went,  but I'd spent most of the time sketching. Maria and Alessandro had gone  to paddle in the crystal blue waters. Being Alessandro, he'd been trying  to hit on Maria all day. The sunset ocean was just another chance to  get with. Being young and unaware, Maria went with it. They were  paddling together for hours. I was left alone, the third wheel.

Is this the memory the  Game-Makers wanted me to react to? If so, they've made a very poor  choice. It means nothing - I'd already shouted at Alessandro, and warned  him that he'd get what was coming to him if he ever tried to get with  my little cousin ever again. He listened to me, and decided to be  content with his other girlfriends, plus a few that no one is allowed to  mention. Why would this mean anything else to me?

Despite working out what  I'm meant to be feeling, there is still an element of confusion over  why I feel I'm reacting so strongly to the picture. It's not just the  memory, but instead almost as if I'm feeling an emotion created  specifically for people who view this picture.

For a few more minutes, I  stare at the picture, trying to work out what it is supposed to mean.  Usually when I look at pictures, I have a habit where I trace the image  with my fingers. However, I am technically in a very famous museum, and  the rules of no-touching may still apply. In fact, the picture may be  protected by a force field, like Fillius.

Fillus - he still stands nearby, arms folding across his chest and his face displaying a curious look, waiting for my reaction.

"Can...can I touch it?" I question, and he nods, gesturing in a way that means 'go ahead' in any language.

The picture is printed  on a canvas, the black of the arms surprisingly smooth. I did this with  the version I drew, and I can't help but remembering how Alessandro had  splashed Maria, and she's screamed and giggled in a way that seems more  familiar from the Arena than from back home, in Italy. What does it  remind me of?

Instantly, I remember,  almost like someone whispered the answer in my ear. It's simple and  very, very predictable when you even slightly think about. The  Game-Makers look star-crossed lovers; they'd obviously make this happen.

They've made me think about Emily.

Gritting my teeth, I  pull my hand away from the picture as if it is hot coals. I'd promised  myself to never think about her unless it was necessary, to only  remember her as an ally, and nothing else. She's a team-mate, a friend, a  helper, maybe even the reason I'm alive, but she isn't anything else.

She 'forgot' to tell me  she already had a boyfriend, and maybe that wouldn't have annoyed me as  much as it did if the boy hadn't said she was using me. Emily kept a  secret from me, a secret that has made me look an absolute for in front  of pretty much the entire world.

So why do I still love her?

I have tried to deny it,  even trying to convince myself. I'd tried to come up with an excuse,  maybe complimenting her to get her on my side for the Games. I just took  the tactics too far, that is all.

But no, that is not all,  because I've been as bad as Emily. She lied to me, and in return, I  lied to her. I can't deny that I like her, not even with all the excuses  in the world. There's nothing I can say, nothing I can do that will  fool the entire world. But I refuse to tell Emily the truth, I refuse to  react. If only I could be as emotionless as Alek, even as oblivious as  Emily. I'm not used to this, I don't know how to act. Love is  Alessandro's area, and I almost wish he was here with me.

What do they expect from me? How do they want me to react? Do they want everything to ok again?

A happy ending, one where romance comes with ease and no one is hurt or harmed - a fairy tale. But that's all it is - a tale.

Happy endings only happen in stories - in real life, like now, bad things happen. Things like death. Things like injury.

Things like heartbreak.