Writer Games: The Final Twist & A Night in Wattpad Manor & Faction Wattpad

The Face of Fear: Parabella Bluestone

Phalene is alive.

I don't know how, and I  don't know why, but she is by some miracle still alive. Maybe the  Gamemakers sent me some hallucination about fighting her, or maybe she  really is dead and I've just gone crazy, either way I just saw her run  by while being chased by a giant mango.

I was about to go after  her. I wanted to hug her and apologize for what I guess I didn't  actually do, but I still wanted to say sorry. Because that's what  Phalene would do. And the fact that she's still alive doesn't change  that I want to be like her, a good person. And I will be.

So when I turn around,  and there is suddenly a donkey behind me, I reach out to pet it. Because  that's the nice thing to do, right? Well, apparently Mr. Donkey doesn't  understand being nice, because just as my hand touches his ear he  twists his head around (much faster than I would have expected from a  donkey) and sinks his fangs into my arm. We don't have donkeys in Two,  and I've never seen one in person before this, but I'm almost positive  they are not supposed to have razor sharp fangs.

I kick the donkey firmly  in the jaw, hoping that will dislodge it from my arm. Not the best idea  I've ever had. Sure, the donkey comes off, but the sickening crack that  echoes through the air is NOT good. Especially when it wasn't the  donkey that made the sound.

I scream in pain and  look down at my arm. It's bleeding and throbbing and bent at an awkward  angle. It's broken. Oh my god I broke my arm. Don't get me wrong, I've  broken bones in the past... just never my own. I broke. My arm. I'm five  people away from going home, and my arm, my dominant knifing arm, is  broken and useless. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I pretty much  just gave up my chances of living. If another tribute, like Alea,  happens across me now, I'll be dead in seconds.

And then an idea hits  me. The ferris wheel. The Gamemakers said there would be something for  everyone there. Something we would need. I know it's a very limited  chance, but if they have something that can fix my arm it's a chance I  have to take.

I cradle my hurt arm to  my chest, the other one holding my knife awkwardly. My dad trained me to  fight with both arms, but I'm still better with my right. I start  heading in the direction of the ferris wheel.

Please, ferris wheel,  please have something for my arm! I hear a cannon boom and flinch, then  speed up. I have to run. I have to get there before it's my cannon going  off. I heave a sigh of relief when I see the ferris wheel looming in  the distance. It's not too far away. I'm almost there. My arm hurts so  bad.

"Heeey guuurl!" An unfamiliar voice calls from behind me.

Keep running. Don't stop to see who it is, just keep going.

"Chu is ignoring me?!"  The voice shouts. "Nuh-uh, gurl. No. I'm talkin' to chu. Chu just gonna  leave me here?" I say nothing and run faster. I really wish my legs  weren't so short... I would have been there by now.

I hear the sound of  gravel crunching and then a giant mango rolls in front of me, blocking  my path. The same mango that I saw chasing Phalene. Oh no, Phalene. I  freeze and look up at the mango. "Where's Phalene?" I shout at it.

"Phalene was a wannabe. I  ran her over." The mango says casually, then it gasps, "Oh guuurl! I  love that hat! Where'd chu get it?"

My throat tightens. Even  though I didn't kill her she's still gone. She's still dead. "You  killed Phalene." I murmur. Not a question, not an accusation, just a  statement of fact.

"Gurl I asked chu a  question. Where that hat come from?" The mango asks. I really don't know  how to describe it's tone of voice... sassy? Yes, sassy works. A sassy  mango.

"You. Killed. Phalene!" I repeat, much louder this time.

"You know what, chu's a  wannabe too." The mango replies. "Imma run chu over and take chu's hat.  Because I got more style. It would look better on me."

"You're just a stupid  mango!" I scream. "I don't have time for you!" I bolt around the giant  fruit and continue my run for the cornucopia.

"Chu just jelly!!" The  mango squeals from behind me. "Imma take chu's hat!" I hear the gravel  crunch again as the mango no doubt rolls after me. This is by far the  strangest Games I have ever seen. And I thought the one that took place  in a doll house a few years ago was strange...

Finally I reach the  ferris wheel. It's running. A majority of the cars are lying dented on  the ground, but there are a few left on the ride. Six, actually. I watch  the cars spin slowly by until I see one that has a giant two painted on  its side. I guess that's me. I run up to the ride and when the two car  spins back around I jump in and close the little door behind me. I sink  down to the floor of the car so that no one can see me.

In the car with me, is a  small box wrapped in shiny silver, and a sealed black envelope that  says "READ ME FIRST" Although I really would rather open the box, I do  as I'm instructed and open the envelope. I'm met with a letter. A letter  in my own handwriting. My mind flashes back though the Games to the day  we were required to write these. I forgot all about it.

____________

Dear Self,

If you're reading this,  it means you made it to the final six, but duh, of course you'll make it  so there's kinda no point in saying "If." The bloodbath has just  passed, and I just want to take a moment to tell you how much of a  badass you are. Or, I am. The bloodbath rocked. I hope the rest of the  Games are just as good. I hope you/I get to kill lots more tributes, but  especially Twelve and Alea. They are annoying as hell! So kill them  soon please. Oh wait, when you read this it will be the final six... so  I'm pretty sure you would have killed them both by now, right? Yeah,  probably.

I wonder who the final  six are? Not that it matters, because you're— I'm— quite obviously going  to win. Just make sure you're a memorable victor, kay? Lots of killing,  lots of blood, lots of continued badassery.

Now I don't have much longer to write, but I have a few requests.

Request number one: Kill  your stylist as soon as you get out of the arena. You'll be the Victor  then, they won't be able to do anything against you, and as an added  bonus you'll get a new stylist. One that's hopefully better than the  last.

Request number two: Wear  a silver dress for your crowning ceremony. One like mom's. She looked  really pretty, and you look like her, so you'll be pretty too. And it  will make momma proud.

Request number three:  This is probably the most important of them all, so pay attention. If I  don't get an answer I'll probably go crazy. FIND OUT WHY A FUCKING RAVEN  IS LIKE A WRITING BOARD!

Much love and respect,

Me.

Wow. Was I really like  that? Still like that? I never understood how self-absorbed I was. I  know I have to change in order to be a good person, but I never realized  how much... I'm going to have to apologize to my stylist when I get back...  I mean, I still hate her guts, but that doesn't mean she has to die.

The throbbing pain in my  arm draws my attention back to the present, and I grab the box. It's  difficult to open with one hand, but when I finally get it open, all I  find inside is a tiny vial of blue pills. Oh please let these be "fix  broken arm" pills! On the vial is a tiny note that says: "Only to be  used under dire circumstances." I don't know what the Gamemakers  classify as "dire circumstances" but I'm pretty sure a broken arm  counts.

I unscrew the cap as  quickly as I can with only one good arm and pop one of the little pills  into my mouth. Pain rips though my body, more severe than the pain of my  broken arm. The pain is too much too quickly. I back out.

And in my unconscious state, I dream.

I dream about giant  mangos, and birds with hats, and all of the tributes I met in the arena.  We sit around the cornucopia holding hands and singing loudly.

Call me a "Hippie", but I like it.

Maybe my stylist was onto something after all. Maybe peace is good.