In the prestigious race of stars, Sozo must hide the truth of who she is or pay with her life, but her blossoming relationship with the most talented competitor threatens everything she's worked for.
...
In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!
I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!
To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo
Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/
-
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Old Man Spurlock
If a graveyard was a person, it would look like old man Spurlock.
Sunken cheeks and greying teeth, with nearly lidless eyes that bulge from their sockets. The flesh of his body looks like dried jerky, all mummified and sucked taut against his bones: his collar bones, his knuckles, the bent of his back. The others like to make up stories about him, but that's all they are. Stories.
In some, he's part of a cult, one that drinks the blood of sacrificed animals, and that's why he owns a farm.
In others, he's a cannibal. He ate his own family. Buried their bones in the cellar underneath his greenhouse, and that's why nothing ever grows quite right in there.
And for this round of Panic, we're supposed to steal onto his property.
As proof that we were really there, we're to snap a picture of something he owns: a tractor, an animal, the hatch of his cellar. For these things, fifty points.
For his coat rack, his coffee pot, his rocking chair — a hundred points, because you can't find these things in his cornfields or his barn, where you can wait and hide in the dark and quiet. You find them in his home, where he eats and sleeps, where there is nowhere to hide, not really.
That's where I have to go.
After what happened in the previous rounds, I'll have to do everything I can to catch up, to stay in the game. Naqi's life depends on it.
It's long past midnight. I'm crouched in the dirt behind the rusty panes of the greenhouse, peering past the corner. Spurlock's shotgun goes off for the fifth time — a bang that rocks the cavity of my chest despite the distance — and somewhere in the cornfields, his dogs yip and yip. They're chasing after someone; the beam from their flashlight swishes and pans, wild, as they flee. Their screams are even wilder.
