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District 1 - Luxure Amarta
“Annie....?”
It all feels unreal. Just days ago I was hunting down tributes... one by one they’d fall to my count. Down they’d stumble, littering the earth with crimson waters. We’re so different, me and her. Like the moon and the sun from our own little worlds. It seems as though a dream... a dream that just hours ago I saw her... hugged her... kissed her pearl skin and promised her everything would be okay.
Her judgement is blinded by innocence. How would she... How could she possibly know Circe was there?
It feels as though a trance. A delusion that insists on tearing apart what little soul I have left. It’s always been hard. Being her friend; seeing her grow year by year, her face change though her mind remains unfixed.
Finnick warned me.
“Look after her! He said...”
Annie simply smiled between the gasps.
She doesn’t know what she does to people. The world is at her back and yet she remains oblivious; devastated by her haunting past. I remember watching my tribute drown in the sapphire flood though she survived. Came out on top. Gliss, My tribute. The first girl tribute to achieve a score of eleven. My sister.
Yet I do not weep. I do not cry. Annie won and my sister died with honour.
“ANNIE!”
Though it hurts now. The thought that moments ago I ripped Circe apart. Tearing my axe through her flesh and gouging at her throat.
The thrill kept me alive, kept me believing Circe’s swipe at Annie would not prove to be fatal.
I was blinded with the scarlet flames of anger. Ignited with the boiling sense to hurt and kill, like they have done to me.
“ANNIE! P-please. PLEASE!”
And here we are. Here I am. Sitting in the gentle rain breaking before the eyes of the world; my hand grasping at the seeping blood in her side, holding my closest friend as her eyes roll into the lure of sleep.
Yeah. Because that’s what death is.
Sleep.
“I’m scared Annie...” Is all I can say before my voice breaks and my eyes swell with stinging tears.
The broken girl stares, her muddy eyes boring into my soul. She nods as if she understands the pain.
And she does.
She knows more pain than anyone.
And it will take her to the grave.
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District Two - Victor Forged
"Left!" hisses the voice of the woman from 7, laid flat across a branch in one of the lush, vivid trees. In an instant I am on my feet, my back to the rough bark and knife reassuringly solid in my hand. My ears pick up the familiar straining sound of a bow being drawn; Claudine stands still as a marble statue, muscles taunt, eyes intensely focused. She's got my back.
"Reveal yourselves!" I shout. I never did like the sneaking tributes. That camouflage girl from 7 was the one who nearly ruined it for me. We like to fight with honour and pride, face to face.
"No!" a gruff male voice shouts back, accompanied by a childish giggle that doesn't fit the person at all. My ears instinctively analyse the sound; low, about ten feet to the left, hiding in or behind a bush with blotchy purple leaves. Something in his tone reminds me of Orville. He seemed trapped as an eighteen year old too. The resemblance is so strong that I nearly shout for him to shut up.
YOU ARE READING
Author Games: Trial By Fire
Teen FictionBe prepared for these games to not only challenge your tribute, but your skills as a writer. Twists and turns in this writer games edition will leave you having to think hard to create imaginative ideas and use your brains and charisma to deceive ot...
