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

The Face of Fear: Rye Quince

Fear is born in darkness.  It grows, feeds and hunts in the black. When the hour is night, and  hopelessness is sinking in, fear will find you and devour you until you  are nothing more than a lost soul.

It's dark enough to be  sickening, terrifying but it's light enough to see my hands and where I  am going. My sickle sword is strapped over my pack, easy to access. The  mutts that Audax mentioned sound a little odd but they're threatening  enough to keep me on guard. I'm listening intently for Orchard's scream.  I'd know it anywhere. It's like my summoning and no matter what it  takes, I'll come running.

I have no clue what I'll  do when it comes to the two of us. Orchard has become much more than an  ally, more than a chore. She understand me better than my family. She's  seen a side of me that no one else has. She's experienced it. And that  makes her invincible to me.

Back home, they're  calling me names, jeering at what is supposedly my first love. And I do  love her, just not in the way that they're imagining. I'd sacrifice  anything for her. My life is no exception.

I am almost to the  Ferris Wheel. I've never been on one and looking at it now, there is no  way in hell I am going to be on one. The anti gravity made me sick and  there is no way I am ever going that high again.

My difficulties begin as  I step onto the path leading up the the Wheel of Death. A pile mud  stands in my way. As I calculate a way to get around it, the pile splits  apart and piles up into a shape. Clowns. I only know what these are  because we had pictures of them in little kid school. And because of  Audax. They terrified me.

I have to act quickly. I  duck below a swinging, muddy fist and slash apart it's arm before  crushing it below my feet. These things are slow enough that I can  dismember them with ease. As along as I avoid their heavy limbs.

I'm doing well,  destroying my phobia quickly. The only thing is, I don't realize the  amount of mud slowly rising around me. I stumble, slip and fall onto my  back. I spear the last clown just as I sink below the surface. Mud  collapses on top of me and I have no time to take breath before I am  submerged. The only thing out is my hand, which I know is trying to claw  me out.

My obituary will read,  "Killed by mud." And my family will laugh in my face, the District will  be so ashamed they'll never want to name a kid Rye. That'll be the end  of me. I'm fading fast, the mud crawling into my nose, mouth, ears.

Something snakes around  my wrist. I grab ahold of it. It's a whip. Orchard. She possesses some  demonic strength as she rips me from the mud. I can feel all the skin  burn off my wrist. I grit my teeth, struggling not to cry out from the  pain. I land on my hands and knees, puking mud. Orchard hits my back,  helping me spew up chunks of wet dirt. My lungs are on fire, my nose is  clogged and itches.

"That was close,"  Orchard pipes. I barely nod. She helps me to my feet and we stagger  towards the Ferris wheel. A ways back, chasing someone across the  horizon is some sort of donkey. Orchard lets out a small squeak before  shoving me aside.

A giant mango rolls  between us. We get up and stumble to our destination. Two gifts lie on  the ground. Both have an eleven on the satchel and both have a name  beneath the eleven. I grab my bag and climb into a seat.

My gift is a light,  steel breast and back plate. I slip it on and tighten the leather straps  before fishing through the bag for anything else. A small piece of  paper rubs against the back of my hand and I grab it. It's the small  letter I wrote to myself after the Reaping.

Hey, if you're reading this, somehow, you've survived.

My guess is that you  managed to know that every move matters. People are watching your  everything, counting your breaths until you die. So somehow, you've  noticed the importance of the situation and managed to get a sponsor.

You've pushed yourself  to the limits of survival, protected yourself and did the best you  could. You've stayed strong until the end and you didn't show remorse.  You became the part the Gamemakers wanted you to be. You played the  tough and silent killer. And you survived despite the chances that were  against you.

Congratulations Rye Judas Quince.

I can see Orchard's lips  moving as she reads to herself. I smile a little. All I can say is I'm  different now. The boy that was there at the Reapings has given way to  the man inside him.