Bluebell's Gamemakers

Instructions

TW: bugs, blood Bluebell stared wide-eyed at the victor's garden before her. Except no victor would ever want this garden. It was all she could do not to throw up in front of those glassy-eyed gamemakers. Those gamemakers. How she hated them. She could see some that she recognised, but she noticed some new faces. Maybe they would be easier to please. Still, she had waited a long time for her turn. She knew that they were all sick of the same display. A long, creeping vine caught her unaware, wrapping around her foot. It was thin, and she was able to shake it off. She looked at the gamemakers. Had they been too zoned out to notice her stumble? Her weapon. In her hand she held a simple pickaxe. What else would a tribute of district 12 use? She had never had the chance to practise though - not even at home - because kids didn't mine for coal. Kids went to school. Kids weren't meant to be here. /I have my weapon/, she thought. /I have my agility/. The pungent smell in the air was ever-present, and Bluebell knew that whatever objective she had would be at the centre of that smell. As she hurried forwards, a clicking sound was evident. She threw a glance over her shoulder, confirming that there were bugs following her. Giant bugs. Mutts. Dragonflies, beetles, cockroaches, and everything in between started to advance on her. She wanted to vomit, seeing all those thin, rapidly advancing legs that seemed to tangle with each other. She looked forward and ran faster, only fear pushing her on. Something sharp raked across her shoulder. She could feel the blood escaping from the wound, but she couldn't afford to slow down. Only when two claws suddenly went around her neck did she realise how close she was to death. She let out a shriek and ducked her head out of the death hug, barely escaping without a fatal injury to a vital vein. She turned to face a gruesome mantis, as tall as she was. Its eyes were blood-red, and its claws were studded with spikes, as was the rest of its body. By impulse, Bluebell dug the end of her pickaxe into its eye before it could lash out at her, not thinking. An instinct had overcome her. She pulled the pickaxe out and, trying not to look at the bloody eye socket, swung it back and then forwards, aimed straight at the creature's skull. She could hear a crack, and it fell onto the ground. As she watched, her adrenaline still skyrocketing, she saw, in horror, the cockroaches, giant flies, and centipedes all rushing towards her from behind the dead mantis. Vines extended towards her from all directions. The bugs came up from the sides, surrounding her. Most made a beeline for the source of the smell, but for many, she was blocking their path. The swarm of eyes, legs, pincers, antennae and vines advanced, and Bluebell found herself screaming and screaming. She couldn't stop herself. But it was as she drew in a deep breath through her nose in an effort to calm herself that she felt the full force of the foul fumes in this place. For the first time since turning to face the mantis, she looked behind her. And saw the flower. All the creatures converged around the flower. She felt multiple legs on her back and screamed again, fear once again carrying her forward. She tripped on a vine, then two, and swung her pickaxe in front of her to clear her path of insects, but finally she reached it. There were insects reaching in, pushing and shoving, not at all acknowledging her presence. Whatever was inside the flower was a prize for them, but surely not for her. Still, she dug her left arm into the mouth of the flower, swinging the pickaxe at a few of the bugs, knocking them over and hitting a few in the eye. When her hand reached nothing, she leaned in further, squashing her right arm and rendering the pickaxe useless. She had to find what was in there. The bugs piled on top of her, and she was using all her willpower to keep it together, to not run in the opposite direction and forfeit her chance of making an impression on the gamemakers. /Has anyone run away from these bugs, and failed the challenge?/ she wondered. At last, her hand gripped onto something fleshy. It was slimy and wet, and added to the nausea she was already experiencing. This was a living nightmare. She pushed bugs out of the way as she drew herself out of the flower, but as she pulled out its heart, the insects kept piling on. She clutched it close to her chest, trying to protect it. She felt like she could trip and be crushed easily, especially with the vines snaking across the ground. How was she going to get out of here? She took one more hateful look at the gamemakers. Her next course of action suddenly became crystal clear to her. She swung her pickaxe in a wide circle around her, knocking out those mutts closest to her. The, before more could advance to take their places, she jumped up, holding the heart of the flower high above her.