The Chosen

They call me Fire, as I am the most merciless of them all. I do not discriminate; there is no gender, race, or age I won’t kill. My body was covered in dried blood; the blood of the people I had murdered.
It had been three days since the game had started, and I was in the lead. The scoreboard hung over the arena with the names and score of each of the players. I knew the world was watching me as I ran through the trees, in search of my next victim.
~The Selection: A Writing Competition~


7. Chapter Seven

There were four of us left now.

I was the holder of the most points, and there was no possible way that the others could beat my number, no matter how entertaining the kill. The only thing they could hope for was their freedom.

I had fallen asleep in a tree, but when I awoke, I was on the ground, laying in the soft grass, just like I had when the game started. I turned onto my back and looked up at the Scoreboard. Four players, two were Chosen.

*Fire (JF): 293 Points

*Malice (TL): 237 Points

Pain (BN): 190 Points

Scream (HJ): 177 Points

All I had to do was sit back and let Scream and Pain take care of Malice and then I could take care of the two of them. That’s when I noticed it. All my weapons were gone except for my knife and my lighter. The same ones I had started with all those weeks ago.

“The Final Four,” the voice announced. “A fight to the death. I wish you all good luck, and happy fighting.”

I looked around and saw the other three in the same clearing as me. We were all laying in a square formation, each and corner and equally spread out.

I was not the first to be standing, but I was the first to pull my knife. I stood there as the others got up; we were all staring at each other, wondering which ones had the asterisk by our names.

I felt a sting in the base of my skull at my injection. I flinched, placing my hand to the back of my neck, along with the three others.

We all understood. It was the controllers. They wanted us to fight, or they would kill us all.

I started running towards a guy with black hair. It went down to his shoulders, and as I neared, I noticed he had blue eyes. He was in shock as I went to cut his throat, but quickly snapped out of it and ducked, making me miss.

“Which one are you!” he shouted at me and I smiled. He pulled out his blade, and slashed, cutting my raised forearm. “I want to know who I’m about to kill!” He screamed and my smile dropped. He punched at me with his left hand, but I side stepped and he fell forward slightly. I took the chance to jab my knife upward, straight into his stomach, jutting it to the right, and slicing his stomach open. Some of his intestines fell out as the body hit the ground.

I leaned down and pulled my lighter out of my pocket, lighting it in front of his eyes that were loosing life. “Answered you’re question?” I asked before lighting his hair on fire. His screams lasted seconds before stopping.

I looked across the area, seeing the dead body at the feet of my last opponent. One more kill and I’d be free to go home; free to live my life.

We both walked towards each other, smelling the burning body of the corpse behind me.

“You’re Fire,” the man called, “That’s obvious. But can you guess who I am?” the man asked.

“You’re Malice,” I said, guessing. It was the only made that made since, given how quickly the other two had died. The dead had had their souls, we did not. “And this is the fight everyone had been waiting for.”

Malice smiled, and we were now ten feet away. “I’m sure your family will enjoy their money,” he said and I chuckled.

“I’m sure your family will enjoy watching your corpse burn.”




The people rushed out of nowhere, surrounding me and the fire by my person. I recognized some of them. The doctor and her security guards. A newscaster who did national news every night. My family.

As I looked around me, I understood what had happened. The female doctor I had met with before the game walked up to me. She handed me a glass with a glowing blue liquid. “Drink,” she said, and I followed the order.

As all my feelings came back to me, I was overwhelmed by the situation I was in.  I had killed all those people. I looked up at the scoreboard and I felt tears come to my eyes. Three hundred and three points. I had murdered over one hundred people. One of them being my closest friend. My girl. My Grace.

“You have, not only the most kills in history, but the most points. How do you feel?” The eager newscaster asked me and I just stared blankly at him.

I couldn’t believe the things that I had done; the people I had killed the; the ways I had killed them.

The man kept talking, and I kept staring, mouth open. When I was asked to choose my prize, my freedom or wealth from my family, I did not hesitate.

“Wealth,” I said; gasps were heard from the direction of my family, and I felt my neck crack.

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