Hello everyone. I'm back with another story. :) This one will hopefull turn out better than the others. So enjoy!
~Patrick
I'm standing there, my finger tips just reaching out and touching the cold metal platform. My body is lurched over. I'm alert, ready for something. Anything. I prepare myself to run. Running may not be my forte, but I'm not horrible either. I know that if I can just run. Distance needs to be put in between me and the blood to be shed in mere seconds. I cannot lose so early. I will not lose here.
The game is mine to own, but the game is worth more than pride. This is a game of life or death, literally. Tick tock. Tick tock. Like clockwork, my mind races. I can't think. I can't breathe. I must be dreaming. Although I wish it was not so, this is reality, and the reality is inevitable. In the mere seconds I count down, my life teeters on the edge.
1. 2. 3. I wait. 4. 5. I pray. 6. 7. 8. I countdown. 9. 10. I race forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the 68th Hunger Games begin!" 11. 12. A mental buzzer goes off.
Finally, I snap out of my daze and realize I was involuntarily running. Running towards death! Exactly what I was warned against! I try to stop and run; however, my legs won't bulge. They are locked on a mission, targeted for a golden item. A beautiful, shining weapon, which is a weapon many overlook. But, I see it immediately. There in the center of the giant cornucopia lies a small, bronze slingshot. I grab it, along with a sack of darts and a bag.
Then, I get spin on my heels attempting to get back on track and distance myself from the death taking place. Though I turn to see a giant in front of me. He roars a deafening war cry then launches himself at me. I gasp. I duck. I run. I run 'til there is no more in me. Until there is nowhere to run. Until I am surrounded by only a dense jungle.
I breathe and realize what all along I was running from; death.
Ok, so I know that it was short, but I hope it was good. Thanks!