angeld
Hoping for something to happen. Silently crouching at the starting line, waiting for the starting bell to ring. Hoping that at any moment we will be pulled out and no longer have to compete, but still the bell rings. And we hope to win, we hope to learn, and we hope to survive. It is no longer crazy to believe in death, when this is the only real chance we have to die. It is weird to think if you survive this, that you will live forever, watching others around you die by losing this game. So we crouch at the starting line, silently waiting for the bell to sound; for us to see which god dies and which one survives for yet another year.
He captivated his audience. His act of locking himself in what him seemed like dangerous positions, really only bored him. They looked at him like a god, but all he felt like was a fraud.
The water vapor on the car windshield was soon brushed off by the wipers. As she looked out at the sky through the window she wished it had not happened like this.
The wrought iron stood in his way, as he stared at her window. Why now? Why this right now?
"The Gamer" he liked that name, it made him feel important. The truth of the matter was that he wasn't. He wasn't important; just your average Joe going to work. With one major difference, he played a game. A game with a set ending, and that was everyone's death.
It sat submerged in the glass bath. I stood looking at the monster thinking, "Why is this thing still alive. It already killed two of us." Then the thing's eyes opened and stared at me, I knew I was in danger but I also realized I couldn't move. I had been caught, and I wasn't getting out... alive.