Elijah hadn't gone to sleep.

The fact would've hardly been anything but commonplace and meaningless had he not just woken up. Run. Sweat coated his forehead and a chill ran through his body as his eyes fluttered open to a disastrous sight before him. A table, friendly and filled with rotting yellow flowers, was the first thing he saw. Where the hell am I? Table cloths were scattered about—forks, knives, and the occasional spoon were given the same attention.

Chains held down his legs and cut into the sides as he struggled to move them. I'm tied up? Vainly, he tried to move his arms as well, only to discover that they too had been tied behind his back. I'm really tied up. A chipped plate that was stained red and yellow sat before him with a pitifully lame finger sandwich sitting upon it. While it held the grace of the Capitol, the bread looked as though it was handmade from ten with limited supplies and the meat inside of it almost appeared green. Bile rose in his throat and he fought to keep it down. His eyes watered as he managed to look up past that—right into the eyes of a three foot amethyst colored wig positioned on top of bright yellow eyes and a large frown that touched the sides of her rouge-kissed cheeks. She sat across the table from him and her stomach was so wide that he couldn't even see where her chair was at. A red dress with a yellow belt was pressed tightly against her body and clung to her vivacious curves.

The chameleon woman tsked at him and a tongue flickered out from her mouth as she said, "It's about time you woke up! We've been waiting for hours!" Her lips parted as she spoke and her nimble fingers squeezed a sandwich in them right at the end of her words. Something about her repulsed him in ways he couldn't begin to explain. She's so...

A shrill, angry voice shouted from his left, "I told you guys not to bring him! We don't want him anyways! Stupid, stupid boy! He's late, late, late! Always too late for anything!" Rabbit?

Elijah turned his neck towards him. To his surprise, it wasn't the rabbit he'd heard before, who had certainly sounded near the same, but a bald man with a red mustache far bigger than his actual mouth. He was dressed in all black with a lone dot of white in the form of a tie against his neck. Even his skin was around that shade—not quite black but something dark and almost purplish. His voice was thick and deep as though he'd spent long amounts of time yelling at people.

"A tergo harena situs esse nex," a tall, thin woman to his right said. Her voice was soft, gentle, yet there was something sharp in her eyes when he turned to look at her. Her long nose seemed to look down on him almost as much as her beady eyes.

"Back at...my arena lies...death?" he asked, unable to translate her Latin so fast. Never, not in all his life, had someone other than his school teacher spoken in Latin. He only knew a few handful of words, yet she seemed entirely advanced in it. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me.

She sighed and waved a small napkin in the air. It was covered in white circles. On her breast was a simple coat of armor and across her body it continued on, making her look more of a warrior than the regal woman she exposed to him. Her hair, which was pulled to both sides and the back in three pony-tails, was a raven black with bright yellow streaks running through it and hung to almost her waist. "Pitiful child, if thou cannot even understand the simplest and yet the most complex form of speech how can thou expect to win? Thou tell thyself constantly and constantly that thy wants to win, that thy has a purpose, that thy want to protect them...yet thou can do none of it. Even delivering simple messages become confounded inside that mixed up brain."

Even for Elijah her speech was a stretch. Whereas he knew that he sounded off, and might have actually wanted to do something about that, she seemed perfectly content in her strange words and light vowels. Something about the way she spoke lingered in the back of his mind yet he could not place his finger on why it sounded so odd. She's so...weird.

The first woman, the chameleon, snarled her teeth as she chewed on another sandwich. The meat stuck between her dingy-colored teeth and flew out as she talked, "Well I don't care! I think he's just as dumb as anyone else! Why should we help him? He's late! I've—we've waited too long on him already!"

"I," Elijah began, clearing his throat, "I have no idea what you're speaking of. None of this makes any sense."

"Late!" the dark man said, his yellow eyes boring into Elijah's scalp. "You're late and all of this is for you!"

"How shameful," the tall warrior woman said. On her chest was a white circle, he noticed, as though some sort of symbol. "We could have done so much for a soul such as this."

"I didn't know this was happening--"

Chameleon tsked at him again, saying, "Didn't know this was happening! Ha! We had to tie you down just to get you to show up."

A new voice piped up then, from out of the woodwork it seemed. "Such ungrateful! Many upsetting! Much sorrow. You lose."

Look around as Elijah tried, and try he did, all he could see was what was already there. Though there had to be at least thirty other empty chairs sitting around the old, yet still grand, table no one else was seated there. Teacups littered the place, crooked and turned over and some dripping out remains of blackened tea with green vines growing from the corners. What the hell? What is this? Why is this happening?

"Down here."

Elijah looked down, back to his plate, and gasped. Choking on air, he spotted the sandwich that lie there. The voice came from that and the meat even moved as the words came out.

"Puh-lease."

"Is—is th-that sandwich you?" he asked, a stammer in his voice. I haven't sounded like this in years. Calm, Elijah, don't...don't let them see you stutter. Don't let them see you mess up. When they see you fail so epic, you become nothing. I'm not nothing.

I'm not.

Chameleon groaned, "Oh! Who let that pathetic creature in again?"

"Not I," said the warrior.

"I didn't," the man in black said.

"It must've been him," a new man said. His voice was deep, dark, and mysterious. Something about it was alluring in the way most voices weren't. Elijah turned to see a man not sitting at the table but now sitting on it—his legs suspending in the air as though there was an invisible stool there and his arms carefully positioned on top of his lap. There was an air of dark about him. Skin so white it was pale, and behind him a moon that seemed to have appeared out of thin air in the still daylight hours, the man seemed completely made of magic. What else, if not magic, could have crafted the man with light blue eyes and dangerously light brown hair? "Elijah, dear, why did you invite that horrid creature?"

"I—I didn't!"

"No?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye. The grin of death smirked its way upon his face. "Then how did it get here? No one else invited it. You must've done it, you naughty boy."

"No, you're--"

"Mistaken?"

There was a collective gasp. Squishy meat fell hard against his cheek and slid down, causing him to squirm under the glare of the three others. The chameleon's hand remained poised from where she'd thrown it, the meat dripping off her fingers in bloody streaks. Even the sandwich seemed to gasp, their voice light and airy and almost child-like. Something about it seemed innocent. Hated, yet for what reason? This makes no sense. God, I need to get out of these ties before that food dries on my face. It stinks. I smell like a rabid animal, don't I? Shit. Shit. Where are the Games? What happened? So many questions and so little time for them to be answered. The world tilted on its axis, slowing down and speeding up simultaneously.

"Late man! Late man say mistaken?"

"Mistaken!" Chameleon shouted, slamming her fist down on the table.

"He just said Master was mistaken!"

"Master lie?" asked the sandwich.

"Look, I didn't say that! I meant--" Elijah coughed, suddenly finding himself unable to speak. A cigar had found its way into the mysterious "Master" leader's hands and from it pooled out a viscous gas that reeked of pollution and death. It almost smelled worse than Garlic looked, which had to be a first. "I didn't-"

Mystery laughed, a great deal of amusement lacing his sounds. "Ah, Elijah, try to contain yourself. Let's get down to business, shall we? We're here because you don't have the heart to win. Now, I'm a man of two things: My word, and my ability to get shit done. You, on the other hand, are a man of similes. A broken book of luscious verse not quite fully formed and trying too hard to please others."

Chameleon nodded her head as though it were about to fall off. Her brightly colored lips parted as she butted in with, "You're ugly too! That hair? That jaw structure? Oh boy, you've got nothing going for you at all! Maybe a ruggedly handsome look, if you could sing. Ruggedly handsome only works for singers."

"That's enough for now, Cammie," Mystery said. Around him the world shifted and spun as he stood, stretching the long legs out and jumping down gracefully to the dirt floor. Everything about him was absolutely certain. That man could not make a mistake. They were right. Elijah had lied. "Now, Elijah, it's time to truly discuss the battle plan."

"Battle plan?"

Mystery grinned a snake-like grin and moved closer to Elijah, his words slippery and dark.

"Oh, dear boy, you know nothing. This isn't an arena filled with fun and games. This isn't about making friends, or protecting those useless, selfish children. Kill them all! The ones you need to protect? They're dead. They're nothing."

"No-"

"No?" Mystery slapped Elijah across the face, the slap resonating throughout the air and thundering down in the form of electric pain high on his cheek and nose. "Don't tell me no. I know. I have been through hell, I have fought the devil, and I know who is worth saving. You, Elijah."

Elijah didn't dare talk again. No-no-no words. No-none. No-nothing.

"You are the only one here with potential. A leader. You could become so much more than a boy from Five, or even a mayor of Five. You could be everything, Elijah. But you squander your talents in useless pursuits of fancy and stupidity and never consider anything else other than the stubbornness of your own self. The potential is there. Use it."

With delicate fingers he reached down and snatched up the sandwich before Elijah's body. Oh God. Though it shrieked and hollered with injustice he placed it onto his tongue and chewed it with his mouth open. Oh fucking God. Then, as a sadistic smile creeped across his face, Mystery spat it onto the ground and listened to the agonizing cries as the creature bleed out and slowly died. Whatever it was...whatever that creature had been, it was dead. Gone. Forever lost.

"Let that be your metaphor."

A lone foot crunched down and, like one did to a cigarette butt, ended it all. Still the too-quiet death comes to reap its victims of everything save their soul, which it then drinks and pours the excess off into the ground. A man of death and a man of agony. A woman of wig and indifference. A late man constantly running. A warrior standing still. And a fallen sandwich. Fucking irony. The man in black, with a smile under that mustache, nodded his head as his foot was removed. "Too late for them too," he muttered. A cackled a laugh left his lips to run away and burn down cities and rape the innocent. A laugh went to where destruction would ensue. And Elijah was left in a world of dark.

"Let this," Mystery said, taking a sip of burnt tea from a broken saucer, "be your simile. You are death, Elijah. You are sound."

Don't talk, Elijah thought, his eyes squeezing shut as though to block out the man's words. Don't let him control you. Just when he rid himself of the voice inflicted from Elijah's conscious, just when he wants to be real and whole and clean, did more noise and static and oppression fill him and leave him pooling over the brim of a half empty cup.

"You are death, Elijah. And you're going to kill them all."

"No!" he shouted, straining once more against his restraints. "I won't!"

"You're going to cut off Janine's head and watch as her blood pours out against the night, slaughtering her as the pig she is."

He's insane. He's a raving lunatic.

"You're going to stab Thom until that boy is dead and gone, watching the life fade from his eyes and the heat leave his body until he's a frozen corpse."

No, no. I won't. I'm not going to. I won't do this.  I won't.

"For Garlic? Oh, ho ho, won't this one be fun," Mystery exclaimed. He jumped around, dancing with joy and amusement.

"Stop it! Shut up!"

"Listen," the others all said at once. Then they shouted, "listen! Listen! Listen!"

"For Garlic, you're going to talk to him. Say you're sorry. Pretend you care. Then, Elijah. Then you strike. And when his body hits the floor? You'll never care again."

"Listen! Listen! Listen!"

"Stop this! I won't, I won't do it!" I won't! I won't!

He laughed and waved his hand, starlight following his every move. Shut up! No more, no more! Each word was a symphony against the noise, leading it, showing it where to go. "And then there's the little one. Little Missus Melissa, ain't she such a cutie? Those cheeks, I could just pinch them all day long."

"Don't you hurt her! Leave her out of this! Stop it, stop!"

"Listen! Listen! Listen!"

"Elijah, Elijah, the Devils prophet. You're going to enjoy this one. You know what you're going to do, right?" Elijah's protests meant nothing. Mystery reached out, his fingers digging into the sides of Elijah's throat as he drowned out all other noise. The others continued chanting, an omen that would never leave. Unable to breathe, Elijah's body dropped as he dimly stared up at the man with hate in his eyes. "You're going to touch her face. Wipe away the tears. Assure her that yes, you'll keep her alive. And when she's not looking? That's when you'll slit her throat. With trembling hands you'll watch as the blade drops faster than she. As everyone but you dies and the last cannon sounds.

"Only then will you be free, Elijah," he finished, letting go Elijah's face with a grin.

"No!" Elijah cursed and spat on the man, his body rocking back and forth as he tried to escape his restraints. The pale moon of before became an angry, desolate red eager to drown Elijan inside his own tomb. The chant changed then, becoming sinister and hissed at him.

"Do not fight Master, do not. Do not fight Master, do not. Do not fight Master..."

Over and over they shouted, they hissed, and paraded around his chair all while Mystery remained standing still before him. A wild party they became, relishing in hate as every one of them chanted and ran around. Even the warrior, still and quiet as she had been, ran and cursed. Tea cups smashed and meat was thrown; Blood soaked the ground. Hair was pulled out as they viciously attacked one another. Warrior took down Late man and both screamed out as they ripped their clothes. The chant grew and wove into Elijah's soul while he stared into the eyes of Mystery.

Lips of crimson fell and touched his forehead and Mystery murmured, "Goodnight, Elijah."

Elijah was asleep.

*

"A tergo harena situs esse nex." Back at one's arena lies (situated in) violent death.

Thoughts before I turn in?