Future Gladiator

Seventeen year old Burnet is brutally taken from her home to become the face of the Government Gladitorial Division. Her story will unravel both her past and her future and force her to make decisions with both consequences and rewards. Friends will become enemies and enemies may be the exact opposite of what they appear.

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14. The Smell of Hell.

We gather just outside the gates to our humble abode in silence. Bollrocks stands off to the side, his heavy frame leaning against an aging pillar. I’m amazed the pillar can even hold up his weight in all honesty.

I have to drag my eyes away from my assessment of the crumbling pillar for I had hoped that I might stare long enough for it to fall and crush him before I had to start today. It certainly would have been a good way to start the day but unfortunately Aguedo’s relentless pacing in front of our group tells me that the start to our day is going to be anything but good.

“You will be fed and watered within five minutes of your dismissal.” He barks.

I can hear the stomachs around me growling in appreciation and up until this point I realise that food hadn’t even played on my mind. It probably should have done because now the painful pangs in my stomach seem to warn me that if I don’t eat soon my stomach will more than happily eat itself. This isn’t a comforting notion.

“However, before you leave I shall inform you of today’s activities. Today, my budding little actors and actresses,” He says with a sneer, “You will be fitted with your armour or costumes, depending on which view you decide to take on your situation. If I was you, but thankfully I’m not, I’d view it as armour, because the arrows and weapons I will throw at you today are very, very real. Now hop to it.” He orders.

He doesn’t need to say it twice because we quickly scuttle over to the rickety table that appears to hold our meal and from the smell it makes as we approach, I very much doubt that it’s going to be an appealing meal.

In fact, if Hell had a smell, I’m sure that the odour rising from the bowls on the table would perfectly encapsulate the horror of the scent. If I don’t die due to injury, I’m certain this food will quickly do the job instead.

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