Author's Games Entries

Task Two: James Peachton

SCORE- 7.5 out of 12

A whoosh was all it took to take James away from the warmth of the nice room and up through a stylized tube that went up at a slow but steady pace. The cold was so chilling that even as they rose up on the platforms, James could feel it cutting through his protective clothing. The surplus boots were extra wide to fit his fat feet-as his mother called them-and felt like thick weights on his ankles. Still, he'd figured they would help more than anything. He could feel his pulse quickening as the timer began, as right in front of his vision was the most wonderfully cold landscape he'd ever seen. Nine. Below, about two hundred or so feet below to be exact, was the Cornucopia, almost exactly-eight-the same as it was every other year. Seven. This time, though, there was a large, obsidian lake surrounding it, from which steam was rising fast. Six. As his eyes followed the steam, darting about as he tried to take in the entire arena at once, he noticed a thick, blue cloud that was so hazy it didn't seem quite right. Five.

It's drugged, he realized. Four. They're probably trying to mess with us, to make this faster than last years. Just as he started to wonder how it would affect him the buzzer sounded, a gun-shot noise that shot to his core. Run for cornucopia, or wait for it?

The other tributes decided for him. Most everyone began running, and since he was last he could see everyone else. Meri immediately darted away, probably too scared to actually believe he'd not try to kill her, and others that he'd noticed talking in the training hall were huddling up together. Making plans, by the looks of it.

It was a tough climb down. Anyone could see that, and it scared off several, but James wasn't worried about that. No, from his years of scaling large rocks and building to avoid bullies he'd found that climbing came as naturally to him as devouring a tasteless meat pie. All he had to worry about was moving too fast and running out of breath.  That was more common than anything. As he stepped out into the snow, sinking in about a foot deep, he began to jog to the edge and climb down, hands and feet cautious. The ice was rough, but didn't break, and he thought of his younger sister, Perry. She'd eaten ice just a week before he was reaped, and had found it near as amazing as he found it. Cold, nice, and slightly salty as it was used to package meat for the district.

She'd die out here, but I wouldn't, he thought with a chuckle. Look at Ayres...stupid boy can't get a grip. "Having trouble?" he asked, amusement laced into his voice. Ayres jumped. It was all in a flash as his feet slipped, his hands started waving about, and he fell backwards as his eyes got so big they had to hurt straining that much. "Oh, too late," James said.

That was the first cannon-fire, loud and oppressive after Ayres had fallen and cracked his head open on a rock below. The smooth, almost porcelain white snow was pinkish-red down there.

A girl screamed, but he didn't look around to see who it was. His vision blurred for a moment, bits of blue-gray dots flashing on the rocks and snow as he touched it. No matter how far he reached out he couldn't feel it, but he had to be touching them still as when he moved his feet he didn't fall. Numb fingers were better than cold fingers, he figured, but it felt weird for him to move his body so much just to reach something. Each joint felt broken and stiff. He was an old toy that needed to be oiled. Something to be fixed. Something he didn't know how to fix.

On the ground was a broken off forked stick. He took it without thinking, knowing that it'd come in handy. As he continued downward his jacket got caught on rocks and ripped near the edge, revealing a line of rubber string. He pocketed that too.

Little bits of vegetation grew from the ground, smaller and bigger trees alike, and he used the branches to keep himself steady as the rocks became less frequent and the snow became more and more coated with slick ice. Bits of mush fell from the sky, to make it worse, and they weren't snow or ice but something caught inbetween that James had never seen before. The blue came down with it, floating and stripping his vision into pieces of color and black and white. Every feeling he felt was mixed in with the cold, intoxicating and oddly heightened.