Author's Games Entries

Task Three: Chance

The dead tributes still haunted Chance as he reached his precious shelter. Images and daydreams of death creeped up on him, watching as he slowly felt his sanity unraveling. Each step cast shadows over him as he entered into the forest. Shadow Forest, or The Forest of Shadows. Either title fit it well, he figured. It's a deadly story to be told after dark.

His grip on the ax was faltering, and the knife felt like it was slipping from his grasp. With a sigh, he stooped down beside a tree trunk twice his size. Vines curled up the side and tiny flowers of black had just begun to blossom there. The blood peeled off with a crunch, pulling his skin taunt before releasing its grip. The knife and ax fell in a clutter to the ground.

Chance felt his strength sapping away. He needed water, but in all his stupidity he hadn't grabbed a bag or even looked for something to drink. In the dark and thick forest there would be no salvation for him unless he happened upon a spring or pond. Piss-fucking-nuts. I can't do this.

He didn't know if he meant it or not. A shiver cut through his skin. I can't, can I? The bark pressed into his back. A nagging, knot-line pain snuck up inside of his throat.

"No, I...I have to get home," he whispered. Saying it out loud meant it was real. Every word in his head was just a guess. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. He wouldn't allow himself to think about what it could mean if his thoughts were true.

Light filtered in piece by piece. Before he could blink it was gone again, leaving his eyes to adjust to the darkness. "I'm going home." Slowly, he understood. The only way to get home was for him to kill more. More. "I'll do anything," he said slowly, "anything to get home."

Tremors raced through him, each speeding up and slowing down on their own accord. Nothing was even. Nothing at all.

Rotten peaches filled the air in thick, wet layers. He breathed them in, felt the sticky juices rolling down his face. The smell clung to his body. "Peaches? Where the hell are peaches at?" he asked. The forest did not answer back.

In the back of his mouth he tasted acid.

"I fucking hate peaches."

Though there was no real peach juice on him he could feel it. It was hot and weird and made him tremble in anticipation with each and every breath he took. His voice fell again to that soft whisper, "There's nothing to be scared of. Nothing."

With cracking bones and leaves crunching under his feet, Chance stood. His weapons were picked back up with little strength as he willed himself to keep going. Birds called to one another, their shrill voices akin to that of a dying human's. He didn't know why his legs knocked or his arms shook. His lips cracked as he licked them with a scarcely wet tongue. Each movement depleted his strength as he continued on further. Don't talk, don't think, just move.

Before his eyes the shadows shifted and moved. They slinked about and followed him. Long, slow, slithering shadows. They spoke of sweet secrets and loving lies that would keep him alive. Tales of Kelsey and Margie. Kelsey's long blond curls and Margie's dark chestnut hair that framed her dark green eyes. Margie, the only child in his family with green eyes. Where they came from was a mystery that he didn't care to solve.

"If Margie had been here, and I watching, she'd be dead," he said aloud. "God, Margie, if you're listening...I'm glad it's me."

But I wish it were you. He didn't tell her that. No, Chance didn't speak his fears aloud. He didn't dare let her know how terrified he was, how he longed to be back home. Every year he watched the Games and never once considered what would happen if he were reaped. If instead of the older kids from school, and even the twelve year old he had known years ago, Chance had been chosen. He could have Volunteered. When that boy, Luke, had been Reaped, Chance had watched. He had been older and stronger and he'd just watched.