"You've gotten tangled up in your own web." - When the End Combs by Andrew Belle
A Poem of Swine and Wrath - 40th Annual Hunger Games
Games, Day 6
Male Tribute from District One, Malachite O'Neal
"Rapture!" The bear screams. "Please!"
I'm running, fingers gripped around the blades I have left. I have three, one larger, serrated knife and two smaller ones. Hopefully, they'll be enough to bring the bear down. But first I'll have to turn around. I'll have to maneuver myself in a position that will give me a kill shot.
Sweat slithers into my eyes and I try to blink it away, as I whip through two more trees. One catches my shoulder, pulling a grunt from my lips. It's thicker than I expected. Then I have the thought that maybe it'll catch the bear's body, that maybe the tree could act as a snare, holding the bear's body while I deliver the death blow.
I wait for him to growl in frustration, before turning back around to toss a blade in his head, but there's nothing. Only silence. The lack of sound slows me down, because if anything I should hear something, the snapping of branches, the screams, the growls of frustration.
Not silence.
Puzzled, I glance around through the trees for the bear, since there's no way a thousand pound beast could turn invisible. Or could it? Quickly, I try to flip through games that had muttations that could turn invisible and I can't remember anything. A sudden panic rises in my throat at this being a gamemaker's trap, at the thought of them moving me into place only for me to get slaughtered on national television. But they wouldn't do that. Not to a Career. They'd at least want to give me a shot at fighting, at surviving. And then there's the feast—they just announced it.
A chill blows through the air, zapping all warmth from me. Snow falls as another breeze blows harder, rattling the branches of the trees. I glance around, waiting for the bear to emerge.
And then it does. As if out of nowhere, as if its emerging from the grave, and then it's sprinting forwards at me. I toss a knife, hitting it in the shoulder, and it rises on its hind legs, screaming. "Rapture!" I sling another blade, hitting it into the chest, and the bear jerks back, only to leap forward towards me. I throw the last knife, and then I'm running, not knowing where I've hit him, but slipping on the snow. I fall, chin hitting the earth, teeth grinding together, blood flooding down my throat from the cut in my tongue. Panicking, I scramble to get up. Behind me, the bear screams, "Please!" I grip at the earth, fingers numb from the cold. Claws are on my back, ripping into my skin, digging into the bone. I scream.
Then there's another scream. "Mal!"
And the bear is moaning, a whizzing sound hitting the air, a thudding following.
I jerk forward, expecting to see the light, expecting to feel the chill after all the warmth swallows my back. But there's nothing. No screaming. Only more whizzing. Only more thudding.
"Mal!" I look up, expecting to see my mother, or my father. But it's Blest running at me, a vast arrange of knives in one hand. I go to turn around, not wanting to see the final blow. At least I know who my killer will be. At least it's not the bear. The bear, I think. Remembering it, I turn around, seeing it's lifeless face staring back at me, claws touching the ends of my boots. I sigh, seeing the knives buried in its head.
"Mal!" Blest screams. She's on me now, hands touching my shoulders, fingers moving the shreds of fabric from the bear claws.
I turn back around, taking her in, the matted hair, the scratches on her face. I smile, thankful she's still alive, thankful that someone from District One might return home. Then I swallow, hard, before glancing over to the knives, "My mother will understand."
The tears fall from Blest's eyes. "You're not dying on me."
I smirk.
"It isn't that bad," Blest says. But I can feel the chills wrapping around my exposed spine. I can feel the blood pooling out of my back and down to my stomach. It reminds me of the time my father would bath me when I was a kid. I'd loved when he'd dumped buckets of warm water on me. I'd love to swim, too, despite no one in my family enjoying the water.
"Blest," I say. "It's okay." I shuffle a little bit, allowing the snow to cool the places that feet hot on my stomach.
"No," Blest says. "I just lost Tal." There's the sound of sobs. I look back at her. Tears stream down her face. "And I can't, Mal. I can't be alone. Not now."
"You'll be alone for a little while," I say. The dizziness has me being more honest than I know Blest wants. "But you'll be home soon."
"I just want to go home," she says, crying turning to snorting.
"You'll be home soon," I repeat. I swallow down some of the blood in my mouth. My jacket is drenched now from all the blood and snow.
Blest grabs my hand, squeezing it, flooding it with her warmth. A tear slips from my eyes with the touch. "I'm not leaving you," she says.
"Okay," I say.
She intertwines her fingers around mine.
There's a sound of a parachute descending, the chiming itching me away from the approaching darkness.
Blest squeals before reaching for the parachute.
"Hold on," she says. "Hold on, this will safe you, Mal. Your mother came to the rescue."
I smile. Of course, my mother came to the rescue.
But then Blest goes silent.
I look over at the what she pulls from parachute. Its a small silk package full of cookies.
"I think that's for you," I manage to say.
Blest's cries louder now.
"Hey," I say.
She looks at me.
"Are they chocolate chip?" I ask, trying to remain calm. Chocolate chip were my favorite, although my mother barely let me eat them back home. I think of my mother and my father briefly, before pushing the thoughts of them crying away.
Blest pulls out one of the cookies and smiles through the tears. "Yes."
Then she puts it near my mouth and I bite down. The rich taste of chocolate overpowers the metallic taste blood, and I smile.
"Thank you," I say, both to Blest and to Beauty and to my mother.
"I'll make you proud," Blest says softly. I barely hear her through the chewing.
"I know," I say. I feel the chill overtaking me, along with the dizziness, and I realize I won't be here much longer now. For some reason, I thought dying would be harder, riddled with pain, but this just feels numb. Like sleeping on silk or satin sheets in the winter. Another tear slides down my face at the thought of never returning back home to my own bed. For a moment, I think I regret volunteering. But then I remember overthrowing Lysandra, I remember the laughs with Blest, the sneaking on to the roof, and it hits me that I did somewhat do this my way by the end. And for that, I'm somewhat free, somewhat empowered, somewhat more than just another dead victor's son.
"I'm going to win," Blest says. She squeezes my hand, and with the touch, I close my eyes, ready.
Male Tribute from District Eleven, Onyeka Kaiis
My teeth won't stop chattering. It reminds me of the time that Misha, Theo, and I went swimming in a lake in the middle of winter. We'd went out there to try and catch a few geese that were nesting on the island. Theo said if we'd killed one, they'd taste like chicken, and with the grumbling in our bellies, chicken sounded nice.
Misha laughed as Theo and I chased them for about an hour or so before collapsing. Since then my bones haven't been this chilled. And even then, after being soaking wet, the winter sun kept us from being too cold.
"Come on," Rapture says. She pulls the jacket over her ears. I do the same, but it doesn't help with the wind chill and the falling snow.
"The gamemakers turned down the temperature," Rapture says, glancing back to me.
"The feast," I say back. Of course, the temperature is an incentive to attend. They'll probably be loads of blankets and thermals and soups.
Rapture continues to walk us down the pathway as the snow falls harder, the flurries transforming into heavy swirls of ice. I wrap my arms around myself, tucking in the fabric against my ribs, as my cheeks go numb. I swallow down saliva, hoping it'll produce some warmth, all while trying not to think, am I going to freeze to death? All of this to die by snow. Something we longed to see as children. I tilt down my head, focusing on Rapture's legs and feet now instead of her back. Will it be like drowning? I wonder. More of my body starts to numb as we continue to walk. Specifically, I can't feel my toes or my fingers or my anything below my hips. Frantically, I find myself glancing around for the flowers Bert and I discovered in the beginning. The red little heart shaped blossoms would be saviors right now. But there's nothing as we walk. Only snow and ice and red barked trees.
"It was a mistake to leave the mountain," I say, teeth chattering.
"We're almost there, I think," Rapture says. But her pace is slowing, too, and that's almost as frightening as the numbing of my elbows.
"Just keep moving," Rapture continues. "They won't let us freeze."
"Why wouldn't they?" I spit back.
"Because it's not good television," she spits back. "Now, walk."
We continue to walk as the sun rises higher and higher into the sky. When it's completely in the center, the snow stops falling, and there's a flooding of warmth throughout the arena. It reminds me of humidity after the rain. Of the hot stuffiness that comes after a heavy downfall in District Eleven.
"It's beginning," Rapture says, than she's half hobbling, half running.
"What's beginning?" I ask. I try to run, too, but my knees aren't defrosted enough and I end up falling to the snow, eating a chin full of it.
"The feast!" she screams. I scramble to my feet, alarmed now, because I can't miss the feast, I can't miss the warmth that will be there.
I claw at the cold desperately, fingers gripping at the earth, as I get back to my feet. Then I'm running, following the footsteps that Rapture left behind, although I still see her up ahead. She's about twenty or so yards ahead of me when she stops fully. When I make it to her, I'm breathing hard enough that there's a rattling in my chest and it hurts to exhale.
"There," Rapture points. I look out to the clearing, seeing the meadow along with the golden horn. Memories flood me of facing off with the Careers. Of barely escaping Talcott and Slate. Of how Bert got sliced open during the bloodbath.
To force away the memories, I take in the meadow of red flowers bursting through the white snow. Unlike the buds on the mountain, these are still in full bloom. I hesitantly take a step forward, wanting desperately the comfort of the warmth, but Rapture stops me.
"Wait," she says. She glances back up at the sun settling in the middle of the sky. "It's noon."
As if the words were a command, the ground in front of the Cornucopia splits open and a table rises from the earth.
Rapture doesn't hesitate at the ascension, she's bouncing off the balls of her feet, sickle extended as she sprints for the table. I pull out my knife and sprint out behind her, barely registering the brown colored packages.
I can't hear anything but my breathing, as I sprint through the meadow towards the table. I'm about thirty yards away from it when I see the another figure breaking from the trees. It's the girl from District One.
"Rapture!" I scream out. But Rapture keeps sprinting for the table, feet kicking up the snow, as she sprints in for the six packages. When she's on them, she grabs two packages off the table and tosses them behind her, over in my direction. As the girl from District One moves in closer, she slings a knife, and Rapture slams herself to the ground.
"Flank her left!" Rapture says to me. She runs to the right.
I dart to the left, trying to get out of the range of the knives, but also not wanting to lose sight of the packages. The girl from District One takes note of my movement and throws a knife in my direction. It nearly slices off my ear as I leap to the snow. Then I'm looking over and seeing Rapture darting in, sickle raised while the girl from District One pulls out more knives.
"Rapture!" I scream out, because the girl is trained and she has a least five knives.
Rapture lunges to the ground as District One tosses another knife.
"Seems someone can't hit a moving target!" Rapture yells out. I stumble back to my feet then, remembering I'm part of the plan, part of something that else that could go wrong if I don't keep my head in the game. And I can't let what happened to Bert happen to Rapture, too.
I run in forward, doing what Rapture said and flanking the girl. But Rapture is running, too, and District One is smarter, because she's tossing a knife at me, catching me across the stomach. Pain electrifies across my gut and I'm feeling the earth beneath me. A new fear enters into me, much like with the bear, and I'm jetting forward, springing off my heels and towards the packages and away from this girl who can kill me with just another toss of the blade.
As I'm running, I see Rapture facing off with District One. But I tell myself this isn't my fight. I tell myself that I have to win. I tell myself that I have to survive for Theo.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rapture swing out the sickle, but the District One leaps backwards, before tossing out another blade.
I hear Rapture scream just as I see another figure merging from the woods. It hits me then that this was foolish to just rush in. That I'm going to die if I don't get out of here now. So I run faster. I sprint. My hands threading around the closest package, scooping it up, before fleeing away from the chaos. To my right, I hear Rapture scream again, but I ignore it.
Female Tribute from District Ten, Halona Ngaio
The boy, Onyeka, runs like I'm going to pursue him. He's cradling his stomach, a trail of blood illuminating his fleeing path in the white snow.
I turn my attention over to the table to see the girls from District One and Elven fighting it out. District Eleven swings out the sickle, screaming, while District One attempts to cut her throat with another knife.
"Just die!" the girl from District Eleven yells. She lunges out again with the sickle, but District One is faster. She's sliding downward, before slicing the blade across her stomach. Instantly District Eleven goes down. I stumble to a halt, before sprinting back harder, knowing that my time to get the packages is closing. Surely, I'll have to face off with District One now if Eleven is dead.
The girl from District One readies another knife and then she's tossing it in my direction as I move in closer. Instinctively, I slam myself to the dirt, hearing the whizzing sound and not risking a close call. It slows me down too much getting back to my feet. While I'm scrambling in the snow, I notice District One hasn't thrown another knife. I look back up, catching the girl as she runs in further to the table, scooping off a package for herself, before darting back towards the woods. I try to see if she's out of knives, but can't see her hands from the package. Then I'm jerking over to my left, seeing if there's something or someone that she's running from. Standing there, I glance around, shield extended, nervous that there's another Career left in the Games, perhaps one of the boys from District One or Four.
But I see nothing. There's only me out here in the meadow now. So slowly, I move out, still extending out the shield, which I should have used to deflect the knife. Looking around the meadow, I don't see any threats. It's only me and the dead girl from District Eleven out here with the flowers. Good.
Her canon sounds suddenly and I nearly stumble to my feet. I'm jumpy. More jumpy than I have been since the bloodbath. Still, I tell myself that I need to get out of the open. There's still another tribute that's unaccounted for and I can't afford a surprise. So with that threat in mind, I'm sprinting to the table, scooping up a package, before turning back around to grab the only remaining one off the table. If it's a Career, I'm not giving them a hand out, and if its another tribute, oh, well, they probably would have done the same.
With both the packages clutched to my chest, I run to other side of the woods, across from where I saw District One and District Eleven enter, and I don't stop until I'm sweating and panting and I can't run any longer.
Stopping, I drop the packages, opening them both, one after the other to only discover that they're clear jumpsuits filled with red flowers.
"Really?" I say aloud. I almost died for this-a plastic jumpsuit filled with flowers. Then I remember the flowers that we stole from Dox and how they created warmth, and I'm sliding into the jumpsuit, without so much of another complaint, and allowing its warmth to dissolve away the cold. I take the other package and bury it into the snow as quickly as possible. Then I reattach my shield that I took from the girl from District Four, Brielle, and pick back up my club. Strangely, I feel stronger now than I ever have before in the arena. With only four of us left, I tell myself that I'll be back in District Ten before I know it. I tell myself that all I have between me and the end of the hell is one Career, possibly two, and Onyeka, the skinny boy from District Eleven who Bert partnered up with.
I tell myself that I can do this as I walk through the trees. I tell myself that of course I can kill these last three contenders if I have to, if it gets me home to District Ten to see my mother and father again. I also tell myself that I have to win for Katya, Kenna, Delaine, Olivia, and Bert. I tell myself that what better revenge on the Capitol to have me win these Games, surely embarrassing them by taking out their little lap dogs one at a time. I shiver at the thought of lap dog. Then there's the memory of killing the girl from District Four, Brielle, and how after last night something in me seemed to simmer down. The fire, the rage, it all seemed to vanish after looking down at her dead body. Maybe it was because she seemed so young and innocent in death. Maybe it was all the blonde hair and the pale skin that made her appear almost childlike.
It was hard to be angry at a corpse. It was hard to be angry at what appeared to be just another girl stuck here, completely at the mercy of the Capitol. My mother voice comes in now, reminding me of who the real threat is in the arena. It's the Capitol, she says. It's the Careers, she continues. I hear her telling me not to get too comfortable, to not become soft all because I saw a girl die who would have easily killed me had she'd gotten the upper hand.
Now is not the time to forget what it takes to win, I tell myself. Now isn't the time to feel mercy or pity or softness for any of the other murderers running around in the arena alongside me.
A/N: I feel like the feast scene was anticlimactic, but eh, I tried something new. Anyway, I thought this chapter wasn't one of my strongest syntax wise. It just didn't feel like it flowed, I don't know, maybe because I felt rushed.
Also, sorry, for the inconsistency with uploads lately. I promise I'll be more consistent here towards the end-with only four more chapters left-when it comes to updates!
Deaths are based on realism, plot development, and sadly if I struggled whether or not to write them. For those who have fallen, I hope the creators stick around and continue to read and review, but if not, I understand.
6th. Male Tribute from District One, Malachite O'Neal. Sunny, I loved Mal and the backstory of him being the son of Harmony O'Neal. For me personally, he was one of the characters who really came into his own by the end of this. He finally broke out of his surname and the all the history and expectations that came with that. Him killing Lysandra, him sneaking off with Blest. I only thought it fitting that he finally get dessert by the end, because lets be honest, Harmony never let him have anything. And the boy at least enjoyed cookies. Much love, Austin.
5th. Female Tribute from District Eleven, Rapture Rose. Amy, you know how I felt about Rapture. And we talked along this journey, and I admitted to you that in my first outline that she was supposed to die by Bex, but then I went and rewrote a lot of it, and Rapture just came alive on the page. I wanted to explore the anger, her relationship with Onyeka, and see what came of it all. Personally, I think she grew a lot throughout this story. But sadly, this felt like a fiery enough end for her. Much love, Austin.
Final Four: Blest, Harland, Halona, and Onyeka. Congrats to Teddy, Corey, Katie, and Haiden for creating these tributes who have so far escaped my wrath. We're down to two more chapters until our victor is crowned. From here on out, we'll be doing three shorter POVs.
New SYOT update: So, my other SYOT has been open for about two weeks now. Surprisingly, I'm flooded with submissions. I mean, I wasn't expecting to tell people "No" this time around, because with my first, I barely had enough to get the story rolling. All of that to say, "wow" this is wild that so many of you wanted to submit. Thank you for all the support and for enjoying these creations of mine. I seriously feel honored to be a part of this fandom.
With that being said, if you're submitting to "A Song for Snakes and Rats" the format for that story will be the same as this one.
How about reviewing if you have the time, or simply shooting me a PM? I'd love to hear feedbacks from the creators specifically, even if you're tribute is deceased.
~Prayers for protection and prayers for peace. hope you all are remaining safe and healthy~