Picture The Hunger Games, where everyone gets ushered away by an escort to a train that takes them all to the Capitol where the Games would take place, then for the first few days they would be prepped and presented like poster children. Then all that would be stripped from them as they're thrown into the arena-not literally, of course-and all their thoughts hone into their lives and their survival. All questions of humanity would fly out the window as they grab weapons they've never handled before and throw away what innocence and sanity they have once retained. The Salem Games was exactly like that, minus all the parading and poster people at the beginning.
It took me a while to recover from the sudden vertigo that overtook my conscience, and by the time I did wake up I had no idea if I was dreaming. The world suddenly turned dark before my eyes, a vast expanse of obsidian surrounding me, and no matter how many times I blinked I could not shake away the creeping doubts that began to erupt all over my conscience. This was not the right time to question whether it was all real, but yet I did it anyway, for this could not be happening, and yet, it was. No one would know what would happen to me now, and all I could ask in my befuddled mind was, why me? Why was I, out of several others in this world, chosen to play what could be the deadliest game of my life?
"Quick! We have to get you to the lobby in Salem as soon as we can."
A man's disjointed voice soon pierced through the silence and I quickly glanced up, noticing the ghost of a man with a pointed black beard and a tall black pilgrim hat grab me by the wrist and run through the dark endless void. How he was able to grab onto my flesh and pull me up when he was mostly made of air surprised me, though not as much as the fact that I was able to recognize him.
"Hey!" I suddenly exclaimed. "You-you're John, right? John Proctor?"
"No time for introductions, Brianne. Though to answer your question, yes, I am," John Proctor confirmed with a nod. "So you have received our notice?"
"Um, of course. But why me?"
"You'll know when the time comes."
The rest of the trip was rather silent, save for the occasional croak of raven and frog, both made invisible from the dark shroud that covered us. By the time we finally came to a stop in front of what looked like a casino table, my eyes were so close to drooping and my limbs were riddled with nothing but pure exhaustion. All I wanted besides a sweater to block out the cold was sleep.
"Here she is," Proctor said to the woman behind the table-a familiar woman with ginger red hair. "She's the last of us to join the town."
"Ah, yes!" the woman spoke then, her once solemn face brightening the moment she saw me. "Brianne from Canada, am I correct?"
"Indeed, ma'am." My voice probably sounded groggy after hours of dehydration, but the lack of clarity in my voice was the least of my worries.
"Dear me. She seems exhausted from the trip!" the woman exclaimed softly, glancing at me with an air of concern. "Is everything alright?"
Is everything alright? Oh, yes, everything is rather swell now that I've lost what could be the rest of my summer just to play the deadliest game in history besides the Hunger Games, and I could very well be dead in 24 hours, I thought through the haze of exhaustion that still clouded my mind. It was true, wasn't it? I never got the chance to truly enjoy my final summer before senior year. Was this really the only thing that could permanently end my days?
"Well, to be fair, not everyone came by looking perky," Proctor reported. "Corey brought in a young lad hours ago who looked pretty downright drunk. We hope he could sober up before tomorrow. Meanwhile, Hathorne brought in an old lady who kept complaining about her three cats."
"And this girl? She looks like she's been plucked out of a lake! No wonder she looks tired." The woman then folded her arms. "Have you been swimming?"
I laughed softly at her shock-struck face. Of course she'd be wary; only witches back in the day could swim, after all. "Yes. I was at a pool party at my best friend's place hours ago," I responded, drastically failing to keep my voice peppy.
"Huh. Well, enough questions about that," the woman finally said with a shake of her head. "Now, normally I would ask you to choose a role from this rolling bingo cage, but since everyone else had already gotten their roles, you're naturally left with this last slip of paper here. Go on, take it!"
With shaking fingers, I opened the bingo cage and took the remaining slip from the box, my heart sinking as my eyes registered the single word printed on the paper.
Medium.
"Well, there you have it!" the woman chirped, clapping her hands. "Welcome to the town, Brianne! Now, I suggest that you rest up for the night, catch some z's, and get ready for the official commencement tomorrow!"
At the sound of that, I immediately bolted up, my eyes wide. "Wait, it's starting tomorrow?"
"Yes! Oh, I can't wait!" she responded with an excitement I know I would never share. "Now, shoo! Off to your sleeping quarters you go!"
"This way, Brianne." Proctor waved a hand then, leading me through the quiet circular village which I could easily identify as the arena. After a bit, he stopped at a small cottage and opened the door, gesturing me in. "This is your home for the next few days, Brianne. And this..." He gestured to a small cot in the corner of the one-roomed shelter. "That's your bed."
"Fitting." It was the best response I could give now.
"Well, I hope you have a good night, Brianne." Proctor then tipped his hat in my direction with a small smile on his face. "If you ever need anything, just consult your crystal ball. You'll know what I mean when you see it." With that, he closed the door, leaving me completely alone.
A low sigh brushed past my lips then as I looked around at the room, dimly lit by a single candle by my bed. The sight of the mattress made all other thoughts fly out of the window, and I crashed onto the bed, wrapping myself in the dark brown fluffy duvet that they supplied for me. As I laid, I couldn't help but wonder. What would everyone say the moment they see me on live television the next day, surrounded by strangers whose names I wouldn't know until tomorrow? What would they think if they saw me working with strange psychic-like magic to talk with the dead? I never liked being a medium in the online game-the popular "medium's curse" constantly hung on everyone's lips, and the last thing I'd want is to die in the next 24 hours. Yet, I knew, no matter how much I wanted it, there was no escape.
Somehow, I was able to find sleep, though one more thought managed to worm its way in.
You have never been in more danger than you already are.