Writer Games: Pending Secrets

Task One - Promises Left Untouched - Male Entries

Alecks Glint

I sat alone, in my small room where I slept. Faint light seeped into the room through a small window at the top of the wall. To small and too high up for me to have had any chance of escaping. But it doesn't matter. I had little desire to escape.As much as I wanted the Capitol gone, there wasn't much I could do right then, so all there was to do was wait patiently, as I sat, staring at the wall in front of me. I heard a commotion outside the door, and I stood up, pushing my dark hair out of my face and peering at the door. Was this finally the punishment I had been awaiting? Suddenly, a peacekeeper broke through the door and grabbed me. I almost fell backwards in shock. He realized I was in shock for a second and used that split-second of weakness to begin pulling me through the door. But I wasn't giving in that easily. I fought back, pulling away with all my strength, managing to get out of his grip and I began running down the hallway. I felt a stinging pain in my back, and knew I had been hit with a dart from their guns. Something to paralyze me, no doubt, as I fell to the ground and couldn't do anything more than blink and breath. The peacekeeper walked over to me and dragged my across the floor until we got outside, and he through me into the vehicle he was driving and began leaving. Unable to move, I closed my eyes to wait until we got wherever we were going. One last thing crossed my mind as we drove off:Dammit I thought I was stronger than that.

Peter Mask

She lay in a pile of rubble, her body as broken as the splintered pieces of wood and cracked plaster around her. She lay still and silent, dark brown eyes open yet staring at nothing, a thick layer of dust and dirt smothering her pale cheeks.

Compared to the blazing fire that licked and burned at everything it touched, and the black smoke that the flames emitted, one might not have even noticed the still body of girl amongst the debris of what used to be an abundant town. It was only the shuddering and trembling form of a boy kneeling over the dead girl's body that caused the Peacekeepers to notice him when they thundered past in immaculate rows, their once pristine white uniforms now stained with dried blood and coated with a thick layer of dust from collapsed buildings.

The boy – by the name of Peter Mask – did not see them. He only saw the glassy irises of his dead lover, and they black tar that smeared her two front teeth when she had let go of his hand and crashed onto the road as an explosion ripped through several houses. Somehow, nothing had hit him, and he had escaped said explosion relatively unscathed except for a few bruises scattered here and there when he had hit the ground from the force of the eruption.

A heavy weight of guilt settled in Peter's heart, combining with the furious emotions of grief as his light blue eyes stared deep inside of her dark ones, silently pleading for her to take a breath of life. His wounds seemed like nothing compared to the dislocated shoulder of his girlfriend that arced upwards from her body, out of joint. Peter winced at the imagined pain of the injury, trying to keep himself together and not to break and fall apart completely – though that was precisely what he wanted to do. Melody Lovegrove – sweet, kind, beautiful Melody – looked so uncomfortable and awkward on the ground, and he couldn't leave her like that. Not exactly knowing what he was doing, Peter placed one trembling hand beneath her dislocated shoulder and tried to straighten it out, but it was locked rigid and he could feel the gap between the ball and the joint. A shudder ran through his body and down his spine as a ragged gasp escaped his lips, and Peter buried his head in his hands.

"My poor baby," he whispered, and as he was still dazed about the events that had just unfolded his voice had a kind of dream-like quality of it. "I hope you weren't in too much pain." He took her right hand and placed it on her stomach so that she appeared less twisted. Somehow, despite the flecks of smashed glass and chunks of earth tangled in her raven hair, it was still as soft as a pillow and still smelled faintly of the rose-scented shampoo that Melody had loved to use, and he stroked it. He ran his rough, calloused fingers through his girlfriend's hair, and then and only then does the heavy realization of death come crashing down onto Peter's body with the force of a freight train.