A Collection of my Writer's Games Entries

Hourglass Games: Task 6 (Maisy Bellon) D10

The other tributes stared around but I put my focus back on Ransom.

"What is the ground made of?" he whispered. I don't know whether he believed me or not, but it would look stupid to say what is really in this place.  

Plain hard dirt. Old bones from the people who were buried. Puddles of water that dripped from the rocky roof.

"The grass is as green as it is back home," I choked out. What was with me? Suddenly the voices stopped and were replaced by a person that should have been dead — Calliope.

"Welcome to the catacombs! This, sadly, is a no kill zone." Her voice comes from the walls, echoing through the burial ground, "That is, none of you may kill each other. The mist will determine who wakes and who doesn't. Sweet dreams, tributes."

Ransom's expression is frantic, "Maisy, what does she mean? Tell me what's happening!" he demanded.

The tributes slowly fell, one by one, as the white gas rose from the headstones. Puffs of dirt surrounded where the tributes fell. And I knew I would soon be falling too.

"I didn't hear anything. Must have just been you," I shrugged — even though he couldn't see me. As the mist came over him, I gently let him fall. I couldn't explain what was happening, but I needn't worry. All my problems disappeared when I too, fell to the dirt and just managed to catch what was written on the headstone: Vega Deadington

**

I was back on top of the volcano when I woke up. I had this weird feeling in my head — a fuzzy sort of feeling. You know, when you feel like something is real but you can't tell the difference between real and fake. I was seriously beginning to doubt my senses.

I looked down over the arena, no Ransom — no one was in sight. I turned to the mouth of the volcano and did a double take when I saw a small girl standing at the lip of it, almost ready to jump. I gasped and her pale blue eyes met mine.

"What are you doing?" I asked. Her ebony hair was dark and straight, her skin was pale and her frame was small. She reminded me of a vampire. I would have said she was about 8, she looked like she would blow away at the slightest but of wind — I knew she was 12 though. Her Hunger Games suit was still on her.

"I might ask you the same," she replied, tilting her head, "No one ever visits me."

"Why doesn't anyone visit you?" I wondered aloud.

"Everyone thinks I'm crazy, before the Games; I was. But now, I'm different."

"Different?"

"Everything's different when your dead — but being dead is to be alive. Riddles and rhymes have left my mind; I can no longer speak them."

"Will the Games change me?" I whispered,

"They have to — it's their job, the spirits." Her eyes looked around for these so-called 'spirits' before returning back to me. She floated across the volcano, her ghostly form made the tatters of her suit trail behind her like vines.

"Deep down, you want to change too," she circled around me, leaving an icy breeze around me, "Do you like who you are?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. Did I like who I was? Sure, I liked helping people. But I have spent a lot of time wondering about Ransom, rather than myself.

"Do you want to change?" she asked. Her voice was sweet and melodic.

I didn't answer her. Because I distracted as I watched her take a glowing light out of her transparent body — where her heart was.

"I have seen people die who don't deserve to," she told me, "And people who have deserved to." She held the pulsating light in both hand and crushed it.

"They always speak to me, but I failed to live. You can still take them to the otherworld."

She sent the sparks of light everywhere and I inhaled some of them. They left a burning trail down my throat. I choked on the terrible sensation.

"What did you do?" I coughed out, and then looked up at her eyes.

She grinned sadistically, "Change isn't an option anymore."

"Tell me!" I gagged. My stomach was burning inside and I bent over.

"Death is inevitable," she whispered in my ear. My eyes went wide — how could she know? Then, ever so slowly, my legs walked on their own — carrying me to the lip of the volcano. I stopped opposite where the young girl had been earlier.

"You sadist," I hissed as I looked over the edge and into the lava pool. I didn't want to look — I wanted to close my eyes and wish to go home. But the thing inside me forced me to do whatever it wanted.

"Yeah, yeah. The bad guy all along. But come on, you think you're really going to win." She floated over the crevasse in front of me, "No one like you ever wins. You're just a weak little girl, just like me. And I'm dead aren't I?"

"I'm not like you!" I shouted at her.

"You've already changed, Maisy. You have already killed people, and that's just the beginning," she whispered beside me as I teetered over the edge, "Go on then," she smirked, "Jump."

What I did next didn't have anything to do with the little spirits in my stomach — they watched on the sidelines. It didn't have to do with the voices in my head. I looked at Vega, the dead girl beside me, and watched the malicious grin — she seemed to be anticipating my move.

"I'll never be like you," I hissed. And little did I know I already was. I was already like Vega: insane. Because you know what I did?

I jumped.