Author's Games Entries

Katie Andy Derson

What does it take

to hear them cry

inside your head

and watch them die?

Katie's fists shook and she couldn't breathe out her lungs right. The air was cold, too cold. She'd always despised it but never before had she truly experienced the total feeling of freezing to death. One thing, she knew, would make her warm. One thing and only one thing could make it right again. That's why she held the short sword. That's why she was the one with the moving and that's why she was the one in command.

"Make a choice," she said. Her voice shook with purple rage. Why she was like that didn't exactly make sense. One second, Katie had been fine. She'd met up with three other tributes and no one was fighting. They'd all been calm. A blue, deep, serene calm. They joked with one another. Laughed. They talked and though she didn't remember what it was they'd talked about she did remember that it had made her happier than anything. Now, though...now she was angry. Now she shook. Now the sword was in her hands, she was in control, and they were on their knees crying with fear.

Her stash of weapons lay only a foot or two away. It was from the ocean that she'd found the sword, swept up right onto shore like a gift from the heavens.

What does it take

to stab them dead

and watch their brains

pop out their head?

Normally, her narration would be there. Telling her, guiding her, prompting her. It was Katie's only defense mechanism. Instead, there was only color. Deep, vibrant purples that swamped down on everyone. They mixed into the water and kissed the tide as it swept in and out in a mad rage. The purple was dark in the sky, a hue ready to take on the world and set it on fire. Fat, horrendous clouds hovered over them, the darkness there making the purple nearly black. What am I?

A killer.

The one in front of the trigger was Maurus Matic, the boy from Four who didn't talk to much. She'd broken both his legs and the pain left him unable to fight back anymore. Two others were behind him, watching as the red and brown haired boy pleaded for his life. He had looked uncomfortable the majority of the times she'd seen him but then more so than ever. "Come on," he whispered, "just kill me. Stop this. Stop."

She shook her head, her grip tightening upon the hilt of the sword. It was smooth and weighed down nicely, fitting into the grooves of her hand with ease. One hand steadied it, the other held it, and both were shaking wildly. "I can't do that, Maurus. One of you is gonna have to kill him, otherwise all of you are gonna die."

Her other hostage was Wendy Raille, the girl from six who, like Maurus, fit into the background. She wasn't real, not to Katie. A person on a page but not true. Katie couldn't write her down, she couldn't feel the emotions. No one was real. In the Games, the only true emotion was rage. The purple hate that fell like a haze and took over all it came into contact with.

What does it take

to become a

killer of men

or so they say?

Wendy's small, pointed face looked pained. Her bright hair was out of place with her green eyes. Two had green eyes. Maurus and Wendy. Backgrounds. Not real. They could die. They'd have to die. Katie had to get back home, she had Sarah to get back to, she had a life there. They didn't have her emotions. They can't be real.

The third and final hostage she'd taken was the chick district two. Katie hated her most of all. Not only did she have an outrageous name, but she wasn't real. In Katie's mind, she was a misprint. A string of letters that no one wanted to actually exist. A being with no true cause. It was because of Apple-Cherry that she was going to kill the three of them.

"Make your choice," she told them. Her voice shook more than the sword, if that was possible. Her body was growing weaker and weaker but she couldn't let herself sleep. If I give in...if I sleep...they'll kill me. I have to kill them first. I have to kill them first. I have to...I have to...

A steady green danced its way through the purple. Ugly, at first, then beautiful. Springtime grass that shattered the purple like glass. Fragments burnt and hit one another, colliding as Katie watched. The anger dissipated like magic, leaving her with only the distant memory of it. Just as the happiness had been with the blue, now the purple hate was gone, and instead there was green fear.

It trembled through her and as one of her hostages stood she pointed the weapon at them, her eyes growing wider and her shaking increasing as they didn't back down. Wendy shook her head at Katie, her once-sweet face looking hard and battle-worn. "Put the sword down, Katie."

"No! I have to do this!"

"Put the sword down." Wendy's voice was assertive, strong, passionate. She wasn't afraid. Katie was. Katie shook her head and despite her every wish there were tears cascading down her cheeks with every passing second. "Put the sword down!"

It dropped.

What does it take

to give away

everything you held dear

to a dead one today?

"I'm not scared," Katie whispered. She fell with her weapon, shaking on the ground. It was a lie she was willing to tell over and over. "I'm not scared. I'm not scared." Her eyes closed as it overtook her, rotting down into her bones and eating away at the marrow there. Nothing could be left of her aside from the fear that dug deep inside and kept her rooted to the snow-laden ground. Freezing cold ice clung to her lips and she breathed heavily, staring at the insides of her eyelids as her captives ran off. The weapon was gone, she knew it was. They were gone. Only she remained. "I'm not scared."

What does it take

to realize

that all you are

is lies?