The King's Game

Jennifer Scott

Description

Every century, selected individuals are chosen to fight for a chance to reign as a new King in their world.

Each selected participants are chosen carefully by their partners and are forced to fight against other contestants for the title of King.

Emma, a young secluded girl, was no different. Once she had accepted to be a part of the game, her life is thrown into danger as she must kill to survive. Her world is no longer peaceful as she once knew it to be. She had lost her only family as well as her friend. Her only goal is to win and she is willing to eliminate anyone who gets in her way.

Sujets

• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 14 mars 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781456612603
• Langue: English

Extrait

The King’s Game
Jennifer Scott
Copyright
© 2012 by Jennifer Scott
ISBN 9781456612603
All rights reserved. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole in part, in any form by any print, electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of any copyrighted materials in any form. To do so is a violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
Stage 1
Day 1, (Early September)
Day 2,
Stage 2
Stage 3
Day 3,
Day 4,
Stage 4
Day 5,
Prologue
Bonds are very delicate relationships, akin to objects dangling loosely on a rope, ready to fall at any moment. They’re supported by trust and held by compassion. They grow slowly with patience. They’re fragile, like thin layers of glass. They’re unbreakable but bendable, like a plastic objects.
An outsider would never understand why, always asking for the how. I suppose that I am an outsider. I could never place my trust in others. I can never share the weight rested upon my shoulders. I can only carry and allow myself to tumble with each step. I could never bring myself to reveal even a portion of truth about me. I could only allow them to point their fingers in haste towards my directions, stating the lies and disregarding possibilities.
I was hopelessly engulfed in my own world; my own perpetual abyss. I had already gotten used to it here as well as the loneliness that accompanied it. I enjoyed the tranquility within the silence and the feeling of reaching out to the unknown. Though I didn’t know why I was in here, I felt as if I was waiting for something, expecting something that I might not want to expect.
I assumed that everything will fall into place. Pieces will line themselves up and stack themselves into a masterpiece, waiting to be analyzed and used as a key for a question waiting to be solved. But answers are never easy to find if you don’t know where to look. We have to solve for an answer without a key. All is well, I suppose, if you were to listen to what shouldn’t be heard.
Now maybe I’m going off on a little tangent, jumbling up the pieces of a puzzle that is easily solved and turning it into something significantly more complicated. I wouldn’t know. In the end, I’m still chained down by the mysterious enigma that I embody. I don’t know what I want or where I want to be. I’m merely wasting my time wandering about in my thoughts as my companions slowly lose their faith in me.
All I can do is stand here and watch as these people pile themselves in front of me, risking their lives for someone who is not worth a ounce of their blood.
I can only agree that I’m cruel. That’s all there is to it. That’s all that I can say.
Stage 1
I sat out there, cuddling myself in the icy cold wind during the middle of winter. It has been quite a while since I’ve allowed myself to immerse with nature. The wind is hasty today, moving quickly into the unknown as it leaves me with nothing but whispers of its travels. It brushes itself against the trees as a sign of its final departure, leaving their traces behind.
I was isolated again. I had recently lost a friend that I held dear to me, but it wasn’t as if I had tried to prevent it. There was a part of me that had wanted to reach out to her, but, I figured, people wouldn’t leave you unless they wanted to. You don’t gain anything from chasing after someone who wishes to leave.
There wasn’t anyone else that I had. I was never the type to easily befriend someone. People leave, I learned, and that was the reason why I had never bothered to attach myself with others. I knew the pain was too great as well as the loneliness that accompanied it. Nevertheless, I was not worried. I did not spend my night weeping for the loss of a person who would abandon me for someone else. Instead, I felt relieved by the fact that I no longer have the need to worry for anyone but myself. I had never really enjoyed these bonds with people. I felt that life was simpler when all you needed to rely on was yourself.
I felt calm, peaceful more or less. The night was still too young for me to neglect for an insignificant matter like this one, so I blurred away my thoughts and sat here on the concrete floor in my backyard, listening to the chirping of crickets.
“You cold?” My mother asked as she walked out to greet me.
“No, I’m good,” I responded calmly. I like the wind and the coldness that accompanied the wind. Though I would usually prefer heat, I was able to think clearly and calmly on nights like these.
My mother had grabbed a thin blanket for me before she came out, but she had now ended up using it for herself as she sat out there next to me. There wasn't much to say about my mother. Our relationship was well established, no arguments or disagreements. Nevertheless, our conversations were short, comprising mainly in a few short phrases. Regardless, I felt that it was enough. We conveyed ourselves through our actions much less than our words. That was the connection we had, however delicate it may be.
“How was school?” She asked.
“It was alright,” I said as my usual response to questions like these.
“Did you have fun?”
“I guess.”
Our questions and answers moved back and forth for awhile and, by now, the both of us had become sleepy as the night grew older. I don’t remember what exactly happened after that. Once I had closed my eyes, my body grew numb as I drowsed into a deep sleep and I felt the warmth of a blanket draped over me, sheltering a part of my body from the wind.
Mother woke me up the next day with a light tap on my shoulder. The smell of lightly burnt toast with a side of eggs and bacon as well as the aroma of caramel coffee made my stomach churn in hunger and my mouth water. I became incredibly hungry and dressed myself in haste in order to savor my breakfast before leaving for school.
With the light of the day, I had barely noticed that my mother had gotten herself a haircut. It was much shorter now, extending to only the tip of her shoulders. Her bangs, however, remained uncut, but, since it was as long as her hair, it was practically unnoticeable. I thought that it matched well with her oval face compared to her long hair before, especially now that it was dyed light brown.
We were both off in our little worlds. She was washing the dishes before they accumulated in the sink while I was savoring my meal after each bite. I didn’t have a father, or, rather, he was never here. I wouldn’t consider him a father. He would come and visit us a few times a year, never staying more than a few days. He would never send mail or postcards and the only time he would call us was to notify us of his visit.
“I’m heading off,” I said suddenly, taking a last sip of my coffee. I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and walked out the door.
“Have fun,” she said before I closed the door.
Without a response, I smiled back at her and left the house as she waved goodbye. I took my usual stroll to school, walking on the same route that I have been since the year had started. The street was normally empty since it was a farther route to school, but I didn’t mind taking the time to spend my mornings in peaceful silence. There was no noise around here except for the chirping of morning birds and the flapping of wings from their departure.
In a quick moment, I beheld an avian creature that was unlike any that I have seen before. Its wings were of amber red and it gave off an expression of superiority as it soared effortlessly through the morning sky. On the tip of each feather contained an obscure blackish hue that blended together as if a shadow was attached to its body, while its slender tail waved with the breeze of the wind, painting the air with an intensity of sweet serenity. I stared at it in awe as it flew away from the corners of my eye. It was beautiful, mystifying, and breathtaking. I wanted to see it again; to be able to touch its seemingly soft feathers and claim one for my own as a mean of remembrance.
I arrived at school shortly after, taking quick glances at the sky once in awhile, hoping to see that creature again. My efforts were futile none the less, but I didn’t lose hope. Throughout my day, I filled my notebook with light sketches of the creature, emphasizing more on its tail than anything else.
Although I was limited in details as to what it really looked like, I became imaginative with my sketches, filling in the missing details with my own.
I was too immersed in my work, disregarding those around me. I hadn’t realized that my old friend was close to me, chatting away with her new companions, until I had heard a loud uproar of laughter from her group. From time to time, I would glance at her to see how much she was enjoying herself. Of course, we had already severed our bond as well as our relations with each other so I should have no reason to continue to care for her. Nevertheless, I had felt a slight pain in me when I noticed that she no longer had any lingering attachment to our friendship. However, I had to bury that deep emotion inside me and burn it once it was locked in the box of my own heart.
I pretended to be at ease for the remainder of the day. Acting had become much easier for me than it was before. However, there was always a part of me that wanted to rid myself of all this. It’s bleak from what I've realized. I’m still waiting on the ticking of the clock to set the time of when things will begin to take its course.
I walked back in the same direction as I had in the morning. My t