Rachel B' Blog

Please let Anne receive strength from this silver parachute. I think to myself as I delicately place the last part of the gift she will receive into the package. You are strong, determined, and I notice a hint of rebellion in you. All of these things I admire about you and I know you can win the games. I can tell that Anne Foyer loves her family and is proud of her district, based on the interview and the news articles I have read about her. So, in order to properly motivate her to get through the Hunger Games, all I have to do is remind her of these two things. This should definitely give her the strength to fight on.

To remind her of her family, I found a newspaper article about each of the tributes. Inside was a very small photo of her and her mother, smiling happily. The love they share is clearly very strong and I have to blink back hot tears when I think of how the sick, twisted, Capitol has separated them, possibly forever. The picture is worn, faded, and has some kind of food stain. However, it should have a lasting effect on Anne all the same. Then, to remind her of District Two, I have included a newspaper from the Capitol about District Two and its importance to all of Panem. I also sprinkled in some small pieces of stone, brick, and plaster in order to remind her of District Two, because that is the district responsible for providing stonework to other buildings. Each rock was dull, round, worn, and not at all hard. I looked for these types of rocks especially because I knew the Gamemakers would be able to tell that they could not be used as weapons.

Inside the package, I attached a note saying:

“Dear Anne,

I know that we have never actually met, but I wanted you to know just how inspired I am by you. Your strength, determination, and obvious love for your family have really had an affect on me, and I hope to do the same for you with these. I want you to use these to remember that most of District Two, especially your mom, is right behind you with there support and belief. You have to win, for your mother and the people who are inspired by you.”

Hopefully, it will be enough to get her through the most difficult part of the games.

For a while, I am able to zone out and forget about the horrors being broadcasted on my television. That is, until a blaring trumpet comes from the speaker and snaps me out of it. A low groan escapes from my throat as I wonder, what now? The Head Gamemaker announces that there will be yet another trick up their sleeves to liven things up. Again? They did a plenty good job of livening things up yesterday! What are they going to set on those poor tributes now? The answer to my question comes much quicker than yesterday, as a stampede of creatures comes towards the camera.

The camera zooms in, which allows me to see this threat a bit more clearly. Frogs. Wait a second? FROGS? That’s the big threat?!?! I study the animal to see if there is anything different about these frogs. Nope. They still have the same texture that makes me feel like I have slime in my hands every time I see it. There are still the solid eyes that are black as night and the matching spots that run from its head to its back. They’re still the same size, probably no taller than a paper clip, and there is certainly nothing threatening about them. The only thing different about these frogs is the colors. Some looking like bright red tomatoes, some like the green palms surrounding the arena, and just about every color in between. My mom looks at me with a raised eyebrow and questioning eyes and I can tell that we are both wondering the same thing. What’s so special about these frogs?

Our question is answered when another Gamemaker announces that these are poison dart frogs and they are one of the most toxic creatures in the world. My eyes grow wide, I cannot blink, and as hard as I try, my head will not allow me to look away. My heart begins to beat faster and faster as tributes keep falling to the ground, having been affected by the poison in these frogs. I gasp as I realize one of the fallen tributes was Juliet Spark, the last tribute from District Five. Just like that, this district’s last chance is gone. I suddenly realize that my mother and I have a wrench-like hold on each other’s hands. This allows me to calm down as I remember that I am not alone in this. I look at my mother through tear-blurred vision and ask her, “How are we going to tell Jimmy?” Jimmy is my younger brother, and Juliet’s best friend. They could always be found together, playing and climbing up things. Jimmy had been heartbroken when Juliet was called from the reaping ball, but we wera all able to assure him that she could make it through the games. Now, we have to tell him that his best friend in the whole world was gone, forever. My mothers warm, reassuring smile makes me feel better and I know that we can find a way to tell him, together. I’m sorry Jimmy, I think to myself, and I’m really sorry Juliet.

I pace around the living room nervously as I hear my television blaring all the blood curdling screams and cries of the Hunger Games. I never like to watch them and see all of those innocent children be killed for peoples amusement, but it is required that every household be watching it. Besides, I want to make sure that Juliet Spark, the only tribute left from District Five, is okay so that I will know if my district still has the chance for this honor.

Suddenly, a loud voice comes onto the television and almost shatters my eardrum as the Gamemakers announce that they have a special trick up their sleeves today that was sure to shake things up. Oh no! I think to myself what are they going to do now? I sit on the couch and my eyes are glued intently to the screen as I try to figure out what is going on. However, my ears pick up on it before my eyes do. I can hear the faint crashing of water in the background slowly growing faster and louder. Even though I cannot feel the ground, I can still tell by the shaking camera and loud rumbling that it is shaking. What could they be doing? Finally, I see it. A massive wave, which made some of the smaller mountains look tiny by comparison, has come out of the ocean and was making its way across the arena, destroying everything in its path. UH-OH! My eyes grow huge with the realization of what these poor tributes were facing. My heart starts to race right out of my chest. Not a tsunami!

Of course, I have never seen a tsunami in person. I have, however, heard enough stories and have seen enough clips on the news to know one when I see one, and this was a tsunami all right. I have heard of all the dangers and destructive power that these massive waves bring and I feel a pang of sorrow to all who were about to lose their lives to this thing. No one deserves the cruel fate that these Gamemakers give to the tributes, I tell myself, no one. I stare at the screen, hoping that Juliet will end up all right and that she still has the chance to win this for District Five. Through the rumbling, you can just make out the shrieks of some tributes that are obviously fighting for their lives and a shiver runs down my spine. The wave continues to grow and it keeps destroying the arena, until all of a sudden, it stops. Just like that. The Gamemakers must have decided that they had killed enough people for now, and the tsunami did not need to continue.

I keep staring at the screen until I catch a quick glimpse of Juliet. She is not in the best condition, but she is still alive and breathing. I let out a sigh and the weight on my shoulders is lifted. This pleasant feeling doesn’t last very long because soon after, I see four dead bodies that the tsunami had caused lying there on the ground. I can’t tell who they are, but that doesn’t stop the hot tears from rolling down my cheeks. How could anybody find this amusing? I wonder as I walk to my room and lay down in bed, trying to forget what I just saw. How could anybody do this kind of thing to innocent children? I keep thinking about this until I am finally able to drift off to sleep.

I am rooting for the tribute Juliet Sparkbecause I live in District Five and she is the only one left from this district. I want her to be the victor because of the pride I have for my district and I want to make sure that we get the honor and respect that we deserve. I feel honored that I was given the opportunity to make this video for Juliet in order to help her and District Five. I hope that what I say really does have an impacton her and that it will help her get through the games.

I gulp a deep lungful of air as I run and my brain is on hyper drive. I have to escape; nothing else matters. I will have to deal with my aching sides and the legs screaming out in pain right after I put as much distance between the jaguars and myself as possible. I could’ve sworn I heard that jaguars attack humans very rarely I thought before I remember where I am, and that these probably aren’t regular jaguars. Still as fierce and fast as always, but this time, programmed to kill humans. Great, what other surprises are going to come out of these games?  I know that if someone dies, and the sound of a cannon goes off, that will distract any animals in the games and cause them to go after it. That has always happened in the past. I try to keep up the pace and keep going until someone dies, but with every step, every tree my arms hit, every sharp rock my foot can feel, it becomes increasingly difficult. Come on! You can do this. You have gotten so much better at running this past week. You can outrun these things! Just keep going! I constantly have to tell myself, or I might not be able to continue on. As hard as I try to keep going, my legs seem to turn into jelly and I can hardly pick my feet up off the ground. Eventually, I collapse. I try to pick myself up, but I just can’t. I stop trying to get up and take in a long overdue breath. As nice as it is to be lying down, I can hear the jaguars getting closer and closer. Knowing what is about to happen, I close my eyes and my muscles become as hard as a rock. This is it, I say to myself as I get prepared, this is the end.

Suddenly, I feel something small and cool hit my hand. I realize that it is my tribute token, a small, golden necklace in the shape of a heart with a smooth, pink, glittery stone in the center. This is the necklace that I made with my entire family years ago. My family! My eyes snap open as I remember why I am fighting, why I must survive. I need to return home and see my family. I need to be with my mom and dad, my two little siblings, Allison and Patrick, who I’ve always looked out for. You can’t let them down. You can’t give up. Remembering them gives me the strength I need to fight back, or at least get to safety. My body still aches and cries out in pain, but I will have to ignore that for now. If I can just keep running until someone dies, I will be safe. Despite the protest from my lungs, sides, and legs, I continue to run and put all pain in the back of my mind until finally, the distant boom of a cannon goes off. That was all it took; the jaguars are now heading off into the direction of the cannon. I’m safe for now.

I walk over to the lake and notice a large group of very concealing trees and bushes that I could hide/ sleep in for the night. It’s warm enough that I don’t need a blanket so I lie there on the damp ground and try to get some sleep. I will need some supplies, maybe there are a few left over at the cornucopia. I will have to check tomorrow. Throughout the day, a total of four cannons went off. I didn’t know who had died, only that there were nineteen more people out there who will want to kill me. I will mostly have to watch out for J.K. Notrowling and Blake Cooper, both of which I saw definite bloodlust in their eyes. Unlike them, I don’t want to kill anyone, but I do know that it is the only way for me to survive. This dilemma keeps me up for hours, I don’t even notice when they show the tributes that died. I have to be with my family again. If I am going to do that, then I have to kill, I tell myself repeatedly, as I look down at a knife I found near the lake, so that I won’t forget. I have get home to my family, at any cost.

This is happening, you’re really going in. Just a few minutes until you enter that arena. That thought constantly repeats itself in my head. No matter how hard I try, or how many other things in the room I try to focus on, my mind always seems to comeback to that thought. My stylist, Korra, must see this on my face because she comes over to me and says, “I’m can’t say everything’s going to be fine, but I know you can win this. You’re one of the toughest, bravest people that I’ve ever met,” she leans in and hugs me. Tough and brave, I think, yeah right! I can barely think about the arena without crying out in fear. Still, the thought gives me a flicker of hope that I haven’t felt since my name was drawn out of that reaping ball. We pull away from each other and sit there in silence. Over the past week, Korra has been there for me and I don’t know how to thank her. Instead, I sit there, memorizing the room we are staying in. I notice the woven rug, made out of red, orange, and yellow fabrics that I do not recognize. The couch we are sitting on is blue and velvet and I constantly have to run my fingers through it, or fiddle with my tribute token, or anything, to get my mind off of where I will be soon. The announcement comes up that it is time for the tributes to head into the arena and my heart starts beating out of my chest as I enter the tube. Korra and I look into each others eyes and I can say the only thing I can think of, “Thank you”, Korra looks up at me, looking confused, “for believing in me. It’s helped get me through the week and its meant a lot to me”. I wish there was more I could say to express how much she has helped me, but I can’t find them. Instead, we just look at each other, tears forming in our eyes until I ascend to the arena.

As I look out at the arena, I gasp and my jaw drops. This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen! This can’t be the arena for the Hunger Games! I can see on the wide eyes and expressions of other tributes that they feel the same way. It is a warm, tropical area and, even though there are trees everywhere you look, they do not obscure my vision enough to see the majority of the arena. In one direction, there are beautiful, snow-capped mountains. Those could be a good place to hide if it comes to that. In the other direction, there is a large ocean, and the water is being dumped into a pretty, shining lake. Hopefully there is a good, clean source of water for me to drink, I’ll need it. I am so taken aback by the beauty of this place that I almost forget where we are, and the events that are going to take place in a couple of seconds. Then I hear the voice from the monitor counting down the time for the Hunger Games to begin. 11-10-9. I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and get ready to run. It’ll be best to avoid the bloodbath, I’ll just have to find a good hiding place and live off of the land and any supplies from sponsors. I can see the other tributes, some nervous, some with bloodlust in their eye. I know that they’ll all have to die if I am to survive, but I can’t think about that right now. 3-2-1. Here we go I tell myself as I run towards the lake. Let the games begin.

After the reaping, I am escorted into the Justice Building by two big, sinewy guards. As I wait for the goodbyes to begin I can’t keep myself from pacing around the room nervously. Looking around is all I can do to keep my mind off of where I am going to be in a couple of days. I notice how much nicer the Justice Building is than the homes of District five; velvet couches, polished wooden floors that you could see your reflection in, and beautiful, red, satin, drapes. I rub them through my fingers and they remind me of my mother’s fancy dress that she would always wear to any special occasion. Thinking about her causes my eyes to water but I quickly snap out of it when I hear the loud, slow, creak of a door behind me.

My entire family runs in with tear-filled eyes and worried expressions. Each of them hugs me as hard as they can. I try to keep a smile on my face and make it look like I’m fine even though all I can think is God please don’t let them feel my shaking. We move to the couch and I can feel my little sister Allison drop onto the couch, causing it to shake vigorously. She then reaches into her pocket and pulls out some kind of necklace. “I went home really quick to get this. Promise me you will wear it while you’re in the arena,” she says quickly as she shoves it into my hand, “to remember us by”. I stare down at the small necklace and it takes a while for me to recognize it. Then, as if a switch in my brain turned on, I suddenly remembered when Allison had found all the materials necessary to make a necklace and the entire family, even Patrick, worked on it together.

The end product was a beautiful necklace. In the center of the pendant was a smooth, pink, glittery stone that our grandmother had given us. We had then stuck the stone on a gold colored scrap metal in the shape of a heart that Allison had gotten from a school art project to make the full pendant. Finally, we took a piece of string and attached it to the top of the heart to make a necklace. It was a fun, quick, family project that had really meant a lot to me at the time. After we had completed it, Mom, Allison, and I had all taken turns wearing the necklace for years until one day, no one could find it. I had missed wearing it at first, but eventually we had all forgotten about it. Allison must have been hiding it this entire time.

As I turn to Allison, I smile, for real this time, and tell her happily, “I would love to use this as my tribute token.” Something about that necklace just makes me feel like I have, and always will have, my family with me. This would be the thing to make me remember that my family was at home, safe, supporting me with everything they had. Just knowing this took a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t even know I had until now. I know that even if I die in that arena, at least I will die with my family right there by me.

May 14, 2014

As I enter into the reaping room, I freeze in my tracks. This is the entire pool of tributes to choose from? I think as I take my seat. This year, there are hardly any eligible tributes in the reaping ball. The odds really aren’t in my favor this year! A nervous sweat trickles slowly down my forehead. NO! Not here, I tell myself, if I do end up in the games I will need allies, and in order to do that I can’t appear weak. I sit there among the other fifteen year olds and try my very best to seem indifferent. For me, pulling off a poker face is harder than a crystal, but I somehow manage.

Harper Haze walks up to the stage, wearing her usual flats and blue glasses. She digs around in the reaping ball and time seems to slow down. I constantly have to wipe my sweaty palms on my new skirt and I can feel my heart racing a thousand beats a second. Harper takes out a piece of paper and we all watch her saunter over to the microphone. As she takes it in her hands I pray to God do not let it be me. I will do anything but don’t let her say my name. She then clears her throat with a quick cough and announces the last thing I want to hear: “Catherine Grace”. Just like that, the very small flicker of hope still in me completely goes out.

I walk up to the stage and I look over at my mom, dad, and my younger siblings (Allison and Patrick). I see them crying and it was like you could hear my heart shatter into a million pieces. The realization that this will probably be the last time I ever see them hits me in full force right then and there and I blink back the hot tears that I can feel forming in my eyes. You have to be strong, I say to myself, for them. My mom and I look straight into each other’s eyes and there is a tacit understanding between us that this is most likely good-bye, forever.