The Game
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Anya Sills, Grade 10
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Short Story
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2019
There’s someone walking above my head. Whoever they are, they’re nervous; you can feel, oozing out of every pore like some sort of gas. If I could give them one tip, it would be don’t be nervous. The nervous ones never last long. But, as I said, that would be if I could help them. Which I won’t. That would be cheating, cheating that would get you disqualified. And I am not going to lose.
A camera zips past my face, swerving as I swat it away. It continues to circle me, flying back and forth like some sort of deranged bug around a light.
If you listen closely you can just hear the sounds of the other contestant’s breathing. You can hear the rustles as they move, fighting their way through whatever it is they see. I see only blackness and emptiness, not a single thing in sight. For me, that’s the worst thing possible. For others, it might be a walk in the park.
Whoever it is above me lets out a little gasp. I guess they’ve encountered the cameras. Nasty little things. Always there to catch those moments you don’t want anyone else knowing about and turn them into quality television.
Suddenly the darkness around me gets darker. I know that sounds crazy, but it does. Blacker, and darker and more... consuming. I hug my knees up to my chest. Lord knows why I thought I could do this. Money? Fame? It’s all propaganda anyway.
I feel the camera flit past my ear, and I put on a brave face. No way am I getting out this easily. You can almost feel the controller’s annoyance. They want drama, pain, suspense. They want ratings.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. You don’t even know where you are. So welcome. Welcome to The Game. The show where everyone faces their worst fears, one by one by one. Well, everyone except you; the lucky viewer. I guess all I can say is sit back, relax and enjoy the show.