05-14-2016, 04:59 PM
The first day, if one could even call it day, was dark. Hanging low above the Colliseum, an cannonade of dark thunder shook everything. Before that day I had once never felt rain upon my skin. Even for our elders, rain was a scarcity of mythical proportions. It was lukewarm like tears, but then I could have mistaken the rain for my own "rain"
Things began to become clear. We weren't fighting for the honor of our home towns or cities but rather our own lives. Even then the message was obvious: We all belonged to the Lord of Colliseum himself. The nameless man was the only source of light that day, clad in radiant golden armor with a halo crafted from the sun itself. For many he was the most beautiful thing alive, but I knew better.
Behind that bright mask of his held a heart darker than the emptiest of voids.
Us contestants... no... prisoners were kept in cells beneath the arena. Stripped of our weapons we were forced to watch as two of us at a time were brought to the surface to die for His enjoyment. I was still weak at the time. Was this my purpose? To die for something not worth dying for? I had never even begun to live my own life. I was merely a puppet wishing to be cut from fate's strings. It was tragic really. If I willed myself to, I could have freed myself from my cage and gotten away from it all. I couldn't though. In the cage beside mine was my brother. He was the prison I could not free myself from. He was my flesh and blood. He was the only one I ever truly loved, the only one I would truly die for. For his sake I forced myself to be broken down and built into my father's image. For him I hated the world.
No words were spoken. Even when a round's winner returned to his or her cell, there was no celebration. The bodies of the lost were taken away, never to be seen again. I decided then they would not take me. I would leave this hell hole on my own two legs. But then... what about my brother? In this fatal tournament, there was only one victor. Did I have what it took to kill my own sibling? I remembered becoming sick thinking about it. Die and be erased from existence, or lose something dear to me. It was one and the same and I could not choose.
Could not choose.
Would not choose.
Will not choose.
I. Never. Chose
Things began to become clear. We weren't fighting for the honor of our home towns or cities but rather our own lives. Even then the message was obvious: We all belonged to the Lord of Colliseum himself. The nameless man was the only source of light that day, clad in radiant golden armor with a halo crafted from the sun itself. For many he was the most beautiful thing alive, but I knew better.
Behind that bright mask of his held a heart darker than the emptiest of voids.
Us contestants... no... prisoners were kept in cells beneath the arena. Stripped of our weapons we were forced to watch as two of us at a time were brought to the surface to die for His enjoyment. I was still weak at the time. Was this my purpose? To die for something not worth dying for? I had never even begun to live my own life. I was merely a puppet wishing to be cut from fate's strings. It was tragic really. If I willed myself to, I could have freed myself from my cage and gotten away from it all. I couldn't though. In the cage beside mine was my brother. He was the prison I could not free myself from. He was my flesh and blood. He was the only one I ever truly loved, the only one I would truly die for. For his sake I forced myself to be broken down and built into my father's image. For him I hated the world.
No words were spoken. Even when a round's winner returned to his or her cell, there was no celebration. The bodies of the lost were taken away, never to be seen again. I decided then they would not take me. I would leave this hell hole on my own two legs. But then... what about my brother? In this fatal tournament, there was only one victor. Did I have what it took to kill my own sibling? I remembered becoming sick thinking about it. Die and be erased from existence, or lose something dear to me. It was one and the same and I could not choose.
Could not choose.
Would not choose.
Will not choose.
I. Never. Chose
"I've been here before, used to this kind of war. Crossfire grind through the sand. The orders were easy: 'It's kill or be killed'. Blood on both sides will be spilled."
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