The First Hunger Games
Merce Raske, 15
District 9
9 days. That's how long I've been in this arena. It's taken its toll on me, that's for sure. My blonde hair is sticky with blood, my already skinny body even more frail. I'm close to the end now though. It's only me and Kasimir, the sixteen year old boy from District 6, who with District 4 eliminated most of the tributes. The only other alliance was Districts 9 and 10 and all we had was a mere truce.
I must look ridiculous to anyone who knows me back home. Nerdy little Merce, the innocent girl that no one paid attention to, in the final two of the Games. I've already killed two tributes, bludgeoning them to death with a club. I won't need to kill Kasimir like that. I have a spear now that I took from his District partner's corpse, mutilated from the wolf mutts.
My survival has been fairly simple really. All I've had to do was stick to the outskirts of the arena while the other tributes picked each other off. Now I only have to remove the final tribute from the games and I get to go home.
Crack. I hear the twig snap and I spin around just in time to see a tomahawk flying at me. I duck and it sinks into the tree behind me. I can see his wild eyes looking at me as he fumbles to pull another tomahawk from his belt. I am not letting him throw another one while I just stand here gawking so I turn and bolt.
I'm crashing through the trees and bushes as fast as I can, but he is definitely catching up. The only way I can beat him is if I fool him, in a one on one fight he will kill me easily.
Thunk. Another tomahawk sinks into a tree next to me. I've gotten lucky that he's missed two. In training he rarely missed his mark. I rip the axe out of the tree and send it flying in the direction it came from. My throw is bad, but I do hear him scream when it makes contact. No need to see where it hit, I just need to get out of here. I turn around and dash towards the golden horn where we started the Games.
Some times has passed since my encounter with Kasimir. I've reached the clearing where the beginning of the Games took place and I can see the dried blood on the floor of the horn. I must have hurt his leg because he should've been here by now. The sun is starting to set now and there is still no sign of Kasimir. I decide that I can rest and go behind a crate and lay out my sleeping bag. He won't be able to see me unless he comes all the way into the cornucopia and exits again. My eyes close and fall into nightmares of the fight that is soon to come.
I awake later. It's dark and the moonlight barely offers any visibility. I poke my head above the crate and I can see a silhouette limping towards the cornucopia from the forest. I bring my spear up next to me and jump out from my cover.
Almost immediately an axe flies at me. It misses and the ricochets echo from inside of the golden horn. I lift my spear and when I release it, it soars into his throat. There's no way he could survive that.
BOOM. The cannon acknowledges my beliefs and the moon intensifies. Trumpets blare and I hear the announcer's voice. "Congratulations to Merce Raske, the victor of the First Annual Hunger Games." A hovercraft lands in the clearing and everything fades to blackness as I lose consciousness.
A/N: These victors are the mentors of the 24 authors 24 tributes collaboration that I am leading. If you would like to be a part of this, check out my other story. Thank you for reading and please review.