Writer Games | Death Wish & 51

Welcome!

Somewhere in the depths  of the Pentagon, people are sat around a dimly lit table, each wearing a  serious expression that is entirely their own. One man, dressed  entirely in black, wears a phase of pure concern. A woman in red wears  one of interest and contentment. Most other faces show a strange mix of  the two, each holding their own interests in mind while observing the  showdown going on between the two.

"President Finch, we  simply cannot do this," says the man in black, folding his hands on the  table. "The danger is far greater than any potential payoff."

The woman in red looks  at him, amusement clear on her face. "That, Vice President Smythe, is  where I would disagree with you. Hidden within there are mysteries far  beyond our imagination, and soon they will no longer be containable.  This is no longer a matter that we can simply push back; this is now or  never."

The tension in the room  climbs to a palpable level as many confused cabinet members look from  one side of the table to the other, trying to decipher what it is  exactly that is occurring before their very eyes. The only thing that is  clear is that the stakes are at a rare high, and that there is an even  rarer disagreement between the President and the Vice. The man in black  shifts in his recliner, slouching ever-so-slightly before standing up  and putting his hands on the table, as if trying to prop himself up.

He sighs. "Assuming we  do go through with this, how would we get anyone to even consider going  to possibly the most dangerous place in the entirety of the United  States?"

"Distract them. Lure  them with promises that, while true, will be little more than red  herrings. Glory. Fame. Riches. Adventure. Do whatever it takes, but make  this sound promising. Get them to crave this; you are, after all, a  great speaker, Malcolm."

He takes a minute. All  eyes are on him, and he knows it; while he may not be in charge, this  plan cannot succeed without his support. "Alright. We'll try. But, as  soon as the stakes get too high, we turn back."

"That seems fair."

At this point, the  confusion within fellow members of the cabinet is only matched in  intensity by their fear of the unknown. They look around, trying to find  a pair of eyes with whom to show their worry, but to no avail; everyone  attempts - poorly - to pretend as if they are in no way bothered by  what is happening around them. Until, finally, one young man in his  twenties speaks up.

"What is this place anyway?"

The woman in red smiles. "Why, Area 51, of course."

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WELCOME:

This is the first of  what I hope will be a few small, non Hunger Games-related writing  contests that I will be hosting every now and then (two or three a  year). In case the above intro was unclear - or, equally as likely, you  skipped it - these Games will be an exploration of sorts of Area 51, a  terrain owned by the American government which is rumoured to contain  all kind of mysteries.

While these Games are very much science fiction, you do not need any scientific knowledge.  After all, this is an area that really isn't to do with knowledge we  currently have available. The tributes also do not need any scientific  knowledge whatsoever; they are simply citizens selected from the pool of  volunteers for this mission.

Also, auditions are back! These Games will have fifteen tributes, and as many audition slots as I can fill in two weeks (which, hopefully, will be a fair few).

Signing up for auditions will open on Wednesday, September 30th at 10 PM GMT. Here's hoping I'll see you there.